Whispered Scream
by AdmiralCats
Summary: (Bad Company: Book 24) Dietrich struggles to adapt to changes following several Marines leaving once their contracts end. New faces appear, and worse yet, she loses a close friend in Wierzbowski when he leaves to start a new life as a civilian. Not too long after, the unit is sent to another distant colony, where Dietrich's mental strength is tested more than LV-426 ever would.
1. Chapter 1

Lieutenant Gorman was crouching on top of a stack of exercise mats while watching his squad of Marines do their daily exercises. His sweat-soaked shirt was draped over his shoulder as he hollered the cadence for everyone to follow. Sergeant Apone and Corporal Hicks were walking around, making sure everyone actually was following along, and Corporal Dietrich followed close behind them, for the sole purpose of making sure everyone's form was proper so they didn't hurt themselves.

"I got work to do in the loading bay, sir, I can't be wasting my time here!" Spunkmeyer yelled.

Gorman gave Spunkmeyer a dirty look. "You've been evading your workouts for _ten years_ because of that powerloader! That is not an excuse!"

Frost laughed. "He's just in shock 'cause you're an officer in better shape than a grunt, sir!"

"That's because I was a grunt before becoming an officer. Move it, people, fifty more sit-ups and I'll let you get some water. Come on, everybody! Let's see some enthusiasm! Winter can _fuck off!_"

Dietrich looked down at Crowe when she walked by him, and knelt to whisper. "Draw your feet in a little closer, sweetie."

Crowe gave her a big smile when he saw her. "Will do." Before she left, Crowe paused again. "Hey, Dietrich."

"What?"

"I love you."

Dietrich nodded, standing up to keep following Hicks and Apone. She looked down at the others, occasionally giving them pointers on proper form, but she kept glancing back at Crowe.

Handsome, sweet Crowe. She had a hard time expressing it, but she loved him, too. She longed for his hugs, his soft accented voice, the light scent of his soap. He was gentle, a good kisser, too. She felt she was lucky to have him.

Dietrich jolted from her thoughts when Gorman dismissed everyone. He hopped down from the mats, grabbing his jacket from a grimy, broken chair he had draped it on before following the gentlemen into the locker room. Dietrich followed the ladies into their locker room, not saying a word.

Her and Ferro were both corporals, but Ferro tended to be the one commanding the girls in the locker room or the shower. She wasn't shy, like Dietrich, nor was she mean. Like Dietrich could be at times.

The departures of Drake, Vasquez, Hudson, and Wierzbowski meant the squad got new Marines. The new combat tech was a very small woman, Private Marda, who was also training to use the powerloader. Wierzbowski's replacement was Private Towers. She was . . . friendly. Got on with Frost easily, and she probably would've gotten along with Hudson if he was still around. _He would make her more unbearable than she already is, _Dietrich thought.

To anyone else, Towers was far from unbearable. She was very outgoing and liked to tease, the way the others did. Dietrich was a different story-well, Dietrich had a dislike of all the new Marines, including Gorman, but Gorman was a bit different because he was an officer. The introduction of the new Marines was a disruption. After all, she'd been serving with the others for almost ten years.

It took her a long time to get along with them. Just when she started to feel like she could become closer to them, they left. They left before she could really make amends with them, and tell them how she really felt. How she really felt wasn't the constant vitriol she spat at them. Deep down, she appreciated them.

Especially Wierzbowski.

Dietrich stood at her locker. Everyone talked around her, not paying much attention to her as she changed clothes. They left before she did. She released her breath, dropping her gym clothes in a plastic bag before walking out of the room, taking the bag down to the laundry room.

Gorman was already in the laundry room, dumping his clothes in one of the washers. He glanced at Dietrich, who dropped eye contact with him as soon as his eyes fell on her. "Dietrich," he said.

"Sir," Dietrich replied, softly, opening another washer.

Gorman watched her for a second. "You can put yours in with mine. I already put detergent in."

Dietrich closed the washer she was about to use, then she walked over to Gorman, tossing her clothes in with his.

"Is there . . . something you want to talk about?"

"No, sir. Why do you ask?"

"You look like you've got something on your mind."

Dietrich shook her head. "No, sir."

Gorman glanced toward the door, then back at Dietrich. "Missing Wierzbowski?"

Dietrich didn't respond. Gorman wasn't someone she felt like discussing this with. She kept looking away. "No."

"OK. Well, if . . . you need to talk, feel free to come to me."

_I don't think I ever will._ Dietrich watched him leave the room, closing the lid of the washer and pressing the "start" button.

Gorman wasn't a bad guy. To get a commission while enlisted was rare, but he didn't seem like he was just promoted to officer for the hell of it. He was highly intelligent with the mentality of a "grunt," though Dietrich had heard Gorman wasn't a standard infantryman, a technician, mechanic, smartgun operator, and certainly not a medic. He was what most Marines referred to as "Vent Rats." The guys who performed difficult and often dangerous missions inside the ventilation systems of buildings, ships, and space stations. Dietrich had no idea how Gorman was promoted, or what he did to get promoted, but she could tell just by looking at him that he missed the tight, claustrophobic operations of Vent Rats. Most people shied away from stuff like that; it was obvious Gorman had loved it.

It didn't discount the fact that he was an officer. Officers have different duties to enlisted Marines. The lax operation of Apone and Hicks was . . . not as lax with Gorman around. He wasn't full-on strict, but certain things changed. Most of it wasn't his fault; there were certain things he had to abide by that enlisted Marines usually got away with.

Dietrich didn't mind the strictness, but she didn't want him finding out about things like her relationship with Crowe. Then again, Spunkmeyer and Ferro weren't shy about their relationship, though they did tone down the affection in Gorman's presence.

Even without Gorman, Dietrich was shy about being affectionate with Crowe in front of others. Crowe was OK with Dietrich's shyness. He found it endearing at times, but he understood it was a hurdle for her, and tried to help. He wasn't pushy about it. He was understanding.

Wierzbowski was understanding, too.

Why did things have to go the way they did?

When she wasn't interacting with anybody, Dietrich found her mind wandering back to all that had happened, emotionally, over the last three years.

She knew he had someone. She knew it was wrong to feel what she did for him. She harbored those feelings anyway. They felt good, but they came at such a price. A very high price.

She loved him.

It wasn't instantaneous. They kept spending time with each other, and it all started on a lazy spring day in 2176. Wierzbowski sought her out to tell her about Drake's surgery, because she was a part of the squad and deserved to know that her teammate was awake and resting so he could come home soon, even though she didn't interact much with anyone.

She was angry because he violated a rule about going into the medical storage room without permission. She didn't care about the why; Wierzbowski broke a rule and needed to know. Anyone would think that would be the end of any friendship they could've had, but Wierzbowski was better than that. He felt like there was something beneath her surface. He gave her a chance. For once in her life, someone was giving her a chance. It was truly the best feeling in the world, and she wanted more of it.

Wierzbowski ended up learning some first-aid from Dietrich. They spent more and more time together because of that. Dietrich loved it. Finally, somebody who enjoyed her company-Wierzbowski even said he enjoyed it. That meant the world to her.

Dietrich never had the best grasp on her emotions. There were very few things she could blindly focus on. So many things easily frustrated her for reasons she struggled to understand. So many things most people didn't mind bothered her to no end. Everything had to be a certain way for her. All the rules needed to be followed. If something was wrong, all consideration for others went out the window. That's just how it was for her.

And Wierzbowski didn't seem to mind. He helped her see things in a slightly different way, to think a little bit before speaking to anyone. They still had their differences. Sometimes, they fought, but wasn't that true for all relationships?

Of course, Wierzbowski had always seen it as just a friendship. Dietrich wanted more than that, even though it wasn't right.

Wierzbowski was dating a civilian woman named Eliza McAllister at the time. Now, they were happily married. Very, very happy, and it was a lovely wedding. Dietrich knew Wierzbowski was dating, and she knew he was happy with this woman. She knew that Eliza had given him more love than he had received in his first marriage. She knew that they were meant to be together. And she let herself feel something strongly for him.

She pondered her feelings about Wierzbowski in the months since they became friends. There was something she felt that she couldn't explain, even to herself. At first it was small. The more they saw each other, the bigger it got. Then she realized just what it was; a crush. Lord, she liked him. It was such a good feeling, something she wished she experienced in high school. It was a good feeling and she wanted it to blossom-

"Dietrich?" Gorman knocked on the laundry room door, even though it was open. "Chow time. Everything OK?"

"Yeah . . . yeah . . . just . . . thinking," Dietrich replied, gradually emerging from her thoughts. She glanced at the washer before following Gorman out to the hallway. Keeping her gaze on the floor, she walked into the mess hall, sitting next to Crowe at the end of the table.

It was so strange without Hudson's obnoxiousness. It had been a little over six months since he had gotten his discharge, and no one had really become used to not having him around. He made things fun, even though Dietrich considered him a walking pain-in-the-ass, or a walking disaster. She had used every insult under the sun on him, and yet she missed him.

In his place was the polar opposite of his personality, in Private Marda. Marda was shy. She was very smart as the combat tech, and friendly when she managed to get comfortable, but she was no Hudson.

Dietrich even missed Drake's smartass commentary on the food. In his place was a young man with dark hair and a sweet smile. Private James Aokawa. He entertained everyone his first night in the squad with stories about his high school senior year summer trip to Japan. He was likable, smart, definitely not as sarcastic as Drake.

Vasquez's replacement was a stockier blond man, Private Derek Caito. He seemed to be constantly smiling, and he looked like he stepped out of an old Christmas cartoon with his rosy red cheeks. He wasn't nearly as tall as Wierzbowski, but he was just as strong. Like Wierzbowski, though, he was modest, often underestimating himself and could be heard saying, "Nuts, I didn't know I had it in me," several times a day.

Dietrich felt Crowe gently take her hand to massage it under the table. "Are you alright?" he whispered. "You look lost in thought, birdie."

"I was lost in thought," she replied. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry."

"This is not soup," Spunkmeyer griped. "It's fucking gelatin."

"This is nothing compared to the beef stew in boot camp," Aokawa laughed.

"The beef stew is still shit? Doesn't surprise me," Spunkmeyer said.

"Do not eat the beef stew," Frost added.

"Biggest mistake of your life," Caito muttered. "Beef stew and cornbread."

"The cornbread wasn't bad," Towers chirped.

Spunkmeyer gave her a dirty look. "The cornbread, sweetheart, is just as terrible as pineapple Chicago-style pizza on whole-fucking-wheat dough."

"How would you know? You've never eaten pineapple Chicago pizza, Spunk," Frost snorted.

"No sensible New Yorker eats Chicago-style _or_ pineapple, and certainly not both at the same time!"

"I live in Chicago, and my wife was born there," Gorman said. "Watch your mouth."

"I pity you and your wife, sir."

"If you're that much of a die-hard New Yorker, I'm guessing you've never had a Philly cheesesteak or Boston crème pie?" Aokawa asked.

Spunkmeyer snorted. "Gimme a Rueben over a fucking cheesesteak. At least you can taste the meat on a Reuben. Last time I had a cheesesteak, the meat and cheese were overpowered by the Goddamn peppers and onions. What is this? A pepper-and-onion sandwich? No, sir, I paid twelve dollars for a cheesesteak. I expect lots of cheese and steak on there."

"When did you have a cheesesteak?" Frost said.

"Oh, this was years ago, when I was still living in Manhattan, before I realized how crappy other cities' food is."

Ferro smiled. "You didn't say anything about the Boston crème pie."

"We don't talk about that."

Ferro cupped her hands around her mouth before whispering, "He loves the pie."

"I said, we don't talk about that!"

Everyone started laughing. "Alright, alright, settle down, people," Apone ordered. "Spunkmeyer, we all saw you at the Christmas banquet, son. You had two slices of that pie on your plate."

Spunkmeyer blushed. "I . . . may've been drunk."

"You were very drunk," Crowe said.

"Beyond smashed, dude," Aokawa added.

Frost nodded in agreement. "At least you didn't get naked, like Hudson always did when he couldn't handle his alcohol anymore. Drake was funnier. Remember the party General Russell hosted? 'Did anyone see my spoon?'"

"And he was holding the spoon!" Crowe laughed.

"He just looked so out of it the whole time! Poor guy. He was looking at us like a little kid finding out Santa's not real."

"He was on the floor after that, and then he threw up under the officers' table," Hicks added.

"Hudson wasn't helping. He was laughing so hard, his face was red and he was crying."

"And then he puked in the fruit punch bowl. He and Drake were partners-in-crime most of the time when it came to drinking."

Gorman raised his hand. "I will never, ever drink with them again. Learned my lesson the first time."

"We coulda told you that when yous decided to go out with them shortly after Hicks took a vacation to 'Bama," Spunkmeyer said.

"Yeah, those were fun phone calls to receive," Hicks muttered.

"Spunkmeyer, I've seen you eat Boston crème pie when you're sober," Ferro said.

Spunkmeyer stuck his tongue out at her. "Did not. You were drunk, too."

"Not like you, that's for sure."

As immature as the conversation topic was, Dietrich found herself missing Drake and Hudson. They made the day more lively. Hudson's constant complaints to her about random aches and pains gave her something to do. They became part of her routine.

The conversations continued after lunch. While the others went down to the lounge, Dietrich headed to sick bay. It had been nice to have someone with her, helping her sort the bottles of medicine and supplies. Wierzbowski had made the mundane tasks less mundane. They talked for hours. Now it was back to being completely alone.

_You have Crowe now. You shouldn't be thinking of 'Ski._ She couldn't understand why her mind turned to him. It wasn't fair to Crowe, not after all he had done for her in the weeks after Wierzbowski left. _I haven't completely gotten over him, and that's my fault. I dreamt too much, and I held such high hopes, even though I knew it was impossible._

Dietrich stared absentmindedly at a bottle of calcium supplement pills. _I'm trying really hard to move on._

She turned when she heard someone knock on the door, and saw Crowe standing in the doorway. "Hi," she said.

"Hi. Can I come in?" Crowe asked.

"Sure."

Crowe glanced over his shoulder before walking into the storage room. "Just wanted to see how you were doing. You looked a little sad at lunch today."

"I was . . . OK, do you promise not to say anything to anyone?"

"Cross my heart, birdie."

"Alright. I was . . . thinking about Drake and Hudson. How things were more lively, and . . . Hudson's shit was just another part of my routine."

"And Wierzbowski?"

"What about him?"

"I imagine you were thinking of him, too."

Dietrich looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry-"

"No, no, don't be sorry. He meant a lot to you beyond . . . the feelings you had for him. Besides, he was a friend of mine, too. I understand." Crowe hugged her, rubbing her back reassuringly, and whispering, "Don't be sorry for what you feel, birdie."

"Crowe?"

"Yes?"

Dietrich squeezed him tighter. "Why am I happy with you, but still thinking of 'Ski?"

Crowe fell silent, struggling to think of a response. "I . . . wish I had an answer, but . . . I don't. I think . . . it'll sort itself out on its own, but if you ever want to talk, I'll always be here."

They stayed there, in each other's arms. _Maybe if we stayed like this forever, I won't think about 'Ski ever again. _"Crowe?"

"Yes, birdie?"

"Can I stay in your room tonight?"

"You may." Crowe kissed the top of Dietrich's head. "Stay in your room until lights-out. Gorman doesn't go to bed until he knocks on everyone's door to make sure they're in their own room. When he leaves the hall, come join me."

* * *

_Question: How might another squad member (i.e., Spunkmeyer) view the new Marines compared to Dietrich?_

_Author's Note: First venture in post-"Ice Star" territory and doesn't involve Drake._

_Familiar faces leaving means new ones must arrive. Some of the names (Aokawa) come courtesy of Denal Douglas, as well as one of the characters, Garnet Towers. Towers was originally intended for Denal's massive Stargate rewrite project, and ultimately cut. She was turned into a Marine and I look forward to using her for future projects._

_The "new" Gorman introduced in "Ice Star" was a character I didn't have many plans for him. Having never worked with the character in the past, I really wasn't sure what to do with him. Some people in the fanbase hate him, some people feel bad for him. I personally feel bad for him, and it was actually some posts I saw on other sites that made me seriously consider developing the "new" Gorman's backstory, because he deserves better. The "Vent Rat" idea comes from Tunnel Rats in the Vietnam War, and perhaps we'll see something from Gorman's Vent Rat days in a future story. Happy reading, - Cat._


	2. Chapter 2

"Dietrich, can I see you in sick bay for a moment?"

Her hair still wet from a shower, Dietrich turned to see Gorman approaching her. "Um . . . sure. Is it an emergency?"

"Not particularly, but I'd like it taken care of sooner rather than later."

Dietrich studied Gorman's face. He didn't look sick or hurt, but she observed the motions of his Adam's apple, noticing he was swallowing hard, and not out of nervousness. Nodding, Dietrich walked with him to sick bay, turning on the lights of an examination room. "Your throat, sir?"

"Yes, actually. How did you know?"

"I . . . can tell." Dietrich pretended to busy herself, searching the cabinets for a penlight, even though she knew exactly where they were. "Just a . . . a sense I've had . . . ever since I became a medtech." She pulled out a light and a tongue depressor. "Let me have a look."

She made mental observations as she shined the small light down Gorman's throat. Everything looked good aside from his tonsils, which were slightly swollen. A whitish object stood out on them. "That's a stone alright," Dietrich whispered. She angled the light to get a better look. "Yeah. Tonsil stone. You're fighting a mild infection. Stones are a buildup of mucus debris that comes down from the nose. Most of the time, they come out on their own, but they can be annoying. What we don't want is them getting bigger. Before I do anything else, I should . . ." Dietrich took a scanner thermometer from a drawer, placing it near Gorman's forehead. "Ninety-nine-point-five. Slight fever." She paused to think, a feeling of anxiousness coming over her. _He's not evaluating me on this, is he? _"Um . . . I'll be sure to keep an eye on this for a few days, sir. If anything gets worse, come see me and I'll give you an antibiotic. It's most likely the beginning stages of a sinus infection. Easy to treat."

"Alright. Thanks, Dietrich." Gorman got off the exam bed. "Have a good night."

"You, too." Dietrich continued looking down even after Gorman had left. She headed back to her bedroom, noticing he didn't knock on everyone's doors the way he usually did. He went right to his quarters.

After getting her bathrobe from her room, Dietrich quietly headed to Crowe's. She quietly closed the door behind her, noticing Crowe was already in bed. When he saw her, he opened his arms, and hugged her close after she crawled in with him. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Gorman's a little sick."

"With what? He looked fine today."

"I guess it snuck up on him. Tonsils were swollen and had stones in them, and he's got a mild fever. Usually the early stages of a sinus infection. Shouldn't be too bad if I take care of it quickly. I don't want to resort to giving him the heavy stuff."

"The stuff that makes you really sleepy for a few days? Yeah." Crowe kissed Dietrich's forehead. "You're the best medtech in the Corps, birdie."

Dietrich gave him a weak smile. "Thanks."

They lay in silence for a few moments. Dietrich snuggled closer to Crowe's chest, her arms wrapped around him. Her mind was wandering, though, back to the events of the day.

Crowe stroked her hair. "What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Just today. You're not upset I'd been thinking about 'Ski, are you?"

"I told you earlier, no, I'm not. Just as long as . . . how do I put this? . . . you're working on those feelings. I understand it's an uphill battle, and I will always be here to help."

"I'm just glad you understand."

"Always, birdie." Crowe nuzzled Dietrich's face, kissing her cheek. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

"In all honesty, I can't remember the last time I had a good breakfast sandwich," Spunkmeyer said.

"Lemme guess, it was in Manhattan," Frost replied.

"Yes. Yes, it was. It was a big, flaky, buttery biscuit. The most delicious scrambled egg, melty cheese, and a generous helping of bacon. And it smelled so good. Fresh off the pan. And they had a meat lover's one with bacon, sausage, and ham. I didn't get to have it, but I will someday."

"All I can think of is how loud Hudson's stomach would be growling as you describe that," Hicks said.

"He was hungry twenty-four hours a day. It would make no difference."

"If you all behave, I will consider sending Bishop out to order a real breakfast for everyone some morning," Gorman said.

Dietrich glanced over at him, noticing the mug of steaming tea in his hand. "How's your throat, sir?"

"Not much change, but not terrible."

"What's going on?" Hicks asked.

"Just sore and a little swollen. That's why I got this." Gorman gestured to the tea.

"Did you bring enough for the rest of us?" Towers asked.

"No." Gorman snorted. "I've only got four bags left."

"Lieutenant Hoity-Toity and his fancy tea." Spunkmeyer blew a raspberry.

"I wouldn't consider myself 'hoity-toity,' Gorman said. "I can't hold my liquor, but I once won an ax-throwing contest at an Irish festival."

"Done those on leave with Wierzbowski a few times," Crowe replied. "He almost split the target in half, his throw was so strong."

Dietrich looked down at her tray. "And yet, he was gentle with everyone he loved," she whispered.

"He did scare the crap out of me when I first saw him," Caito said. "Very gentle soul indeed. Seems fitting and kind of hilarious that he has a very small woman for a wife."

"They're the sweetest couple you'll ever meet," Hicks replied.

"Yeah, they sent everyone Christmas cards last month," Gorman added. "Wierzbowski's got a very good lady and they've got a long life ahead together."

"And no one's going to forget Drake passing out during the ceremony," Spunkmeyer said.

"He was having a flashback," Hicks cut in. "Don't start making fun of him."

"I'm not making fun of him. I'm just saying, everyone who was at Wierzbowski's wedding saw Drake pass out right before the 'I dos.'"

"Your wedding with Ferro will be interesting, that's for sure," Frost laughed.

"Oh? And how so?"

"Instead of a cake, he's got an enormous New York cheesecake. There'll be pizza, Reubens, and strip steak for entrées-"

"We're going to have to compromise on a lot of things, sweetie," Ferro interrupted, looking at Spunkmeyer. "You're not running the show."

"You both run the show," Gorman said. "New York strip at a wedding isn't a bad idea. I'd leave out the pizza and sandwiches. People expect something . . . formal at a wedding."

"Formal?" Spunkmeyer looked at Ferro. "I don't want to do formal."

"We'll do semi-formal. You still have to propose, though, and I said to wait until we get discharged. Plenty of time to think about what we want." Ferro gave Spunkmeyer a gentle nudge.

"Didn't Drake and Vasquez get engaged?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"Yeah. Right after Hudson and his girlfriend got married," Hicks replied. "Their wedding is, what, August?"

"September eighth," Gorman corrected. "Got it marked. You're all invited."

"You know, I knew they were together the minute they joined the squad. No sense in hiding it," Frost said.

"Maybe they didn't want your nose in their business," Spunkmeyer muttered.

"That's enough, guys," Hicks said. "Finish up, head to the gym for exercises."

* * *

Music was blasting and thumping from an overhead speaker as the Marines exercised at their own pace, choosing their machines and punching bags as they pleased. Occasionally, Hicks, Apone, or Gorman would stand over someone to tell them to keep going when they looked like they were about to quit. Otherwise, they too were working out.

Dietrich was on a pull-up bar, glancing around at everyone. Frost was lifting weights with Crowe as his spotter. Aokawa and Caito were on treadmills. Towers and Ferro were on one of the machines. Marda and Spunkmeyer were doing pushups. Hicks was beating on a punching bag. Apone was telling Spunkmeyer to not let his belly touch the floor. Gorman was doing a handstand on the exercise mats, and slowly transitioning to using one hand only. Dietrich could see the lean muscles in Gorman's torso contracting and moving. It was clear he had built himself to move in tight spaces. There was a litheness to his movements, an almost cat-like quality of gracefulness. She didn't hear any popping from his joints, and he had to be older than most of the other Marines. She wouldn't be surprised if he could twist his spine like a ferret.

Spunkmeyer flopped on the floor, grunting. "I hate pushups!"

"If you hate them so much, give me twenty more!" Gorman shouted.

"Quit griping, sweetie," Ferro said.

"Bite me!" Spunkmeyer spat.

"I'll bite you later. After you do your pushups." Ferro winked.

Spunkmeyer grinned, then began attempting those twenty pushups.

Marda shook her head, watching Spunkmeyer.

"Well don't just lay there!" Spunkmeyer shouted. "You're doing them with me!"

"Be nice to her," Ferro said.

"This is nothing compared to how he is when I'm using his loader," Marda replied, softly.

"Yeah, I know. He's very protective of that thing, even though it's just a big, ugly machine."

"I've cared for that 'big, ugly machine' for almost ten years!" Spunkmeyer yelled. "I love her!"

"But do you 'love her' more than me?"

Spunkmeyer paused to think.

Gorman glared at him from his upside-down position. "That's a terrible answer, son."

"Of course I love Ferro more than my powerloader-"

"Then you should've said that ten seconds ago."

Spunkmeyer rolled his eyes. "Ever since Drake left, Lieutenant Hoity-Toity's been our love guru."

"You're just upset that he's got better muscles than you," Frost said.

"Piss off."

"Knock it off," Hicks said, firmly. "Ten minutes, ladies and gentlemen! I want to see y'all sweating."

Dietrich pulled herself over the bar, still observing her surroundings. There was a point in her past where such a noisy environment would've been unbearable for her. So much was coming to her senses at once, and she couldn't handle it. She forced herself to become desensitized to the noise in order to pass boot camp. Nowadays, the noise was just there. There were times, however, where dead silence was unbearable.

Bishop walked into the gym a few minutes later, not paying much attention to the side conversations and sounds. He approached Gorman, holding out a paper. "Sir. Message from Command."

Gorman stood upright before grabbing his shirt and taking the paper from Bishop. He sighed, then called, "Hicks, Apone! Gotta speak to you in private."

Hicks dismissed the others before following Apone and Gorman out into the hallway.

"Can't be good," Spunkmeyer muttered. "I'll bet someone's getting transferred. Better not be me."

"Probably just officer-NCO business," Caito replied. "Doesn't apply to us in the slightest."

"You hope," Aokawa snorted.

Dietrich changed and left the locker room first. She noticed Gorman, Apone, and Hicks had left the office door open. Glancing over her shoulder, she stepped closer, curious as to what was going on. Something in Gorman's expression when he was looking at the paper said it wasn't good-she could feel it.

". . . LV-335. The forested world they recently added a settlement to," Gorman was saying. "I guess that ship we destroyed on LV-426 wasn't the only source of those creatures."

"Probably not," Hicks replied. "Does it say how the infection started?"

"Group of guys spelunking about ten miles away from the colony itself came across some eggs. Creature latched onto one of them, and . . . well, we saw what happened to Hadley's Hope. Only difference is somebody got an S.O.S message out before it could get bad. USCM locked down the planet-no civvie ships can go in or out. We're going in with two other units to take care of it."

"When do we head out?"

"Tomorrow night. We gotta pack up ASAP, shuttle's taking us up to Gateway tomorrow. By six PM, we're boarding the _Sulaco_ and taking a two-week nap."

Hicks nodded. "Alright."

"I'll go give everybody the news," Apone replied.

* * *

"Shit," was the only thing Spunkmeyer said after Apone explained what was happening. "You mean when we fucked LV-426, that wasn't the end of those creatures?"

"Guess not," Hicks replied. "Listen, we're the only unit in the entire Corps that has faced these things before. When we get to the colony, we're giving a briefing on what happened on LV-426 to the other units."

"May I remind you all that this is not a pleasure cruise. I don't want any horseplay with the Marines we're going to be working with," Gorman said. "Any horseplay is going to result in my boot up somebody's ass." He gestured to his boots. "And these are steel-toed. You're gonna have a painful time taking a crap for the next week or so, so don't let me catch you fighting or flirting with anybody."

"You can play when we finish the mission," Apone added. "Alright, people, I want everyone to pack. Only the essentials, because we're coming back to this base right after. Move it!"

Dietrich immediately headed to sick bay to put first-aid kits together. Her mind turned to Gorman. _Is he fit to travel with an infection? _She set an empty kit on a table. _I can give him an antibiotic before hypersleep. He'll feel awful when he comes out of it, but he'll be clear of any sicknesses._

After putting the kits together and on a cart to be rolled onto a shuttle, Dietrich went looking for Gorman. He was barking orders at Frost and Towers, who were rushing around the armory. Caito was inspecting his smartgun, glancing up only once to nod to Dietrich. "Corporal," he said.

Dietrich ignored him. "Sir!"

Gorman looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"I need you in sick bay."

Gorman followed Dietrich to sick bay. "Is it an emergency?"

"Before you go into cryo, I have to give you something to clear your infection. I didn't want to, but . . . you need to be in the best shape for this mission, sir."

"Alright, Dietrich, I appreciate you telling me ahead of time, but if this isn't an emergency, you can wait to tell me when I'm not busy."

For a moment, Dietrich wasn't sure how to take it. She didn't want anyone putting their health as a second priority. Looking down, she didn't say a word. A part of her felt embarrassed, like she had been made out to be an idiot.

A second later, Caito jogged into sick bay. "Dietrich, we've got a problem."

"What?" Dietrich asked.

"Hicks hurt his shoulder."

Pushing past Gorman, Dietrich grabbed some of her equipment and followed Caito down to the loading bay. Frost and Aokawa were holding up a crate, and Hicks was on the deck, clutching his right arm in pain.

"What the fuck did you do?" Dietrich said, glaring at Frost and Aokawa.

"Accident. He lifted it before either of us could," Frost replied.

"Great. We've got a mission tomorrow and you fucked it up."

"We didn't fuck it up, Dietrich," Aokawa said.

Caito helped walk Hicks down to sick bay. "Really am sorry, Dietrich," he whispered.

Dietrich didn't respond. She looked over Hicks's shoulder, and sighed heavily. "Well, it's not the worst that could've happened, but you're not traveling with us."

"Dammit," Hicks grunted. "Son-of-a-bitch . . ." He took a moment to breathe and compose himself. "You know what that means, Dietrich; you're in my place for this one."

She didn't respond to that, either.

"OK? Can you do it? I don't wanna spend my whole recovery time worrying about you guys."

Dietrich nodded.

"Alright." Hicks gently patted her shoulder. "I trust you, OK?"

* * *

Standing next to Apone and Gorman wasn't where Dietrich wanted to be, even after she finished going over a long checklist of medical supplies potentially needed for their mission.

Crowe's presence helped, but she wished Wierzbowski was there, too.

It was toward the end of the day when Dietrich got the chance to talk to Wierzbowski via video-call. She clutched his contact information on a slip of paper in her hand, and walked into the comm room shortly after everyone received orders to start powering down for the night.

She paused at the door when she saw Gorman sitting at one of the screens, talking to his wife. ". . . It's a two-week flight, so you won't hear from me for about a month."

"Well, that's a shame. You'll be in cryo for your birthday next week," Lydia replied.

"I know, and I'm sorry. You probably had plans, didn't you?"

"I did have plans."

"Don't scrap them just yet. Postpone them till I come home. I'll get a few days of leave as soon as I can." A big smile came over Gorman's face. "Now how are my two furry troublemakers?"

Lydia disappeared from the screen, and then reappeared holding two cats. "They both miss you. Pixie has been on your dresser, knocking things over. Bomber's been alternating between sleeping on your side of the bed, and your spot on the couch." She kissed both cats on the head.

"Well, Daddy misses them, too. Oh, how's Olivia?"

"I've gotten at least one phone call a day asking where 'Uncle Scotty' is. I'm not looking forward to telling her you'll be gone for a month."

Gorman's smile faded. "I wish there was a better way to put it."

"I know this . . . might not be the right time, but . . . have you thought about retiring? You've been in service for twenty years. Surely the benefits will be enough."

"The simplest way I can put it is . . . I'm just not ready. I think I can go further. I went as high as I could go when I was enlisted. I feel like . . . I can go just as high as an officer. Besides, the people in my new squad are the best Marines I've ever dealt with. I don't think it'd be right to just abandon them. Y-You're not mad, are you? Trust me, I understand where you're coming from, and I'm sorry I haven't been getting enough time to spend with you and the rest of the family."

"No, I'm not mad. I knew what I was getting into. If . . . you feel like staying is best for you, then by all means, stay. I love you, Scott."

"I love you, too, darling. I'll see you in March." Gorman disconnected the signal, and turned to see Dietrich in the doorway. "Sorry I took so long. Wasn't expecting her to ask that question."

"It's OK." Dietrich walked into the room, sitting in front of one of the monitors.

"You've got ten minutes till lights-out, you know." Gorman then paused, and sighed. "I'll give you twenty. Long-distance?"

"Not really. I'm calling 'Ski. Not even a state away."

"Alright. Sometimes the signals get a little wonky this time of year due to the snow. Wouldn't want you to lose time because of a bad connection. Just remember to turn everything off when we're done, and go right to bed because we're heading out in the morning. Have a good night, Dietrich."

When Gorman left, Dietrich began keying in Wierzbowski's information. She was patient as she waited for the signal to connect, and looked directly at the screen when the words "Connection Activated" appeared on it.

"-It's probably Dietrich, dear, I'll be back in about a half-hour." Wierzbowski sat in front of the computer. "I was right; it is Dietrich. Hello."

"Hi," Dietrich said. "Just calling to see how you're doing." For her, it was strange to see Wierzbowski in civilian clothing. He was wearing a heavy sweater, though it was not unlike the issued sweaters with "USCM" emblazoned on the chest.

"I'm doing alright, thanks for caring. And how are you?"

"So far . . . so good. We're . . . going on a mission tomorrow."

"Ah. I wish you the best of luck. I do hope they got another strong man to replace me." Wierzbowski grinned.

"No. They got this annoying, loudmouthed bitch called Towers in your place."

"Is she really that annoying or just annoying to you?"

"Does the fact that she gets along good with Frost say anything?" Dietrich sighed. "I guess it's just to me. Everyone else loves her."

"OK, well, don't be a bitch back. I know how you can get with people you're unfamiliar with." Wierzbowski rested his arms on the desk. "I'm in the process of training to be a paramedic. Started two weeks ago."

"That's good." Dietrich smiled. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. Eliza's happy, too. How've you and Crowe been doing? He said things were going well in the letter he sent me."

"Things are good. I'm not . . . unhappy. I'm actually very happy."

"Good. Have you been getting along with the other new Marines?"

"For the most part . . . I guess I am. There haven't been any fights. Marda and I don't talk. I've already mentioned how I feel about Towers. Aokawa and I don't talk much, either. Caito's . . . actually very nice to me. Offered to help me a few times."

"Well, if you feel like you can become friends with him, go for it, but, I understand if you're not ready."

Dietrich nodded. "'Ski?"

"Yes?"

"It's . . . good to hear your voice again."

Wierzbowski gave a sad smile. "I can imagine. I do miss you. I wish you could've come for Christmas, but . . . maybe next year."

"Yeah. I . . . I have to go. We're leaving for Gateway in the morning."

"Alright. I won't hold you up. Good night, good luck. See you soon."

* * *

_Question: How do Dietrich's feelings toward strangers compare to Drake's?_


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning was hectic and rushed. Dietrich ran around with everyone else, making sure things were in order before Marines and gear were loaded onto the shuttle.

From there, it'd be more rushing. Rushing to get everyone moved over to the _Sulaco_. Dietrich had been through this process before, but never in a command position. She stayed close to Apone and Gorman unless ordered otherwise.

Hicks had watched the hustle and bustle from a distance, his arm in a sling. Dietrich could see the disappointment in his face, and she wished there was something better she could do, something that would allow him to join the mission.

It just wasn't possible, though. It wasn't an injury she could speed the recovery of. Yet she continued to curse herself while riding up to Gateway.

The _Sulaco_ was already prepped and ready to go. Spunkmeyer was overjoyed to be back in the harness of his powerloader, after a few months of watching and teaching Marda how to use it. Everyone could hear him talking to "his baby."

As predicted, it was early evening when the Marines boarded the big vessel, and Bishop communicated with Gateway to undock it. The sirens and warnings to stay away from the airlocks were muffled from where the Marines were getting ready for hypersleep.

Everyone was in their sleepwear when they stepped out of the showers. Dietrich eyed Crowe's shirtless form as he passed by her. He looked over his shoulder, giving her a wink.

Spunkmeyer broke the line of guys to walk over to Ferro, giving her a hug and a big kiss.

"No obnoxious displays of affection on a cruiser, ladies and gentlemen," Gorman said as he walked by them.

Spunkmeyer rolled his eyes when Gorman wasn't looking, and gave Ferro another kiss.

Dietrich placed her kit in her locker before taking out a single pill and setting it on a tissue on the bench. After locking her things up, she picked up the tissue, walking over to Gorman. "Sir," she said, softly.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Gorman left his cryotube for a glass of water. "Almost forgot you were going to give me that."

"We can't be down two squad members," Dietrich said. "You'll wake up a lot slower, but I'll program your tube to wake up a little earlier than the others."

"How much earlier are we talking?"

"Two hours."

"Alright. That's not too bad."

"I will be checking you when we wake up. Even if it doesn't work, I . . . think you'll be fit for command, sir."

Gorman nodded. "Thanks, Dietrich."

Everyone began to quiet down as they got in their cryotubes. The silence really was odd without Hudson's obnoxious comments every few seconds. Dietrich ran her fingers through her hair, hoping her sleep would be peaceful, and dreamless.

She had heard that it was almost impossible to not dream in cryo. If that was the case, she hoped she wouldn't dream about Wierzbowski. She wanted to dream about Crowe. _Maybe I should've kissed him in private before getting ready for sleep._

Maybe just thinking about him would put a print on her mind. She kept hoping that as the tube closed over her.

* * *

Dietrich found herself walking down a darkened hallway. It looked vaguely familiar, and she couldn't quite pinpoint why until she came across an open door. There was a fading sign reading "Principal's Office." She drew in a quick breath, and turned to leave.

"What is this?"

Dietrich looked over her shoulder to see Gorman holding a sheet of paper. "I don't know," she said.

"What is this?" Gorman gave her a dirty look. "Did you . . . _hide _this from your recruiter?"

"No! I didn't hide anything! I swear!" Tears streamed down her face.

"That's not what this says. You have something that would've gotten you kicked out long before you went to boot camp."

"And it's too late to do anything! Nothing that happened in school matters anymore for me!"

"You lied."

"I had to! I wouldn't be able to leave home if I didn't do anything! I needed to leave! I needed to move past this!"

"This isn't something you can get away with. I'm sorry."

A rush of cold air flooded over Dietrich as the cryotube opened. She couldn't jolt up, as she could still feel ice pulsing through her veins. Eventually, she slowly sat up, looking around while rubbing her face. The other Marines were getting up as well, all at their own pace.

Gorman was already walking around in just a pair of shorts and socks, not ordering anyone to get up. Spunkmeyer got out of his tube, groaning and saying, "I had the weirdest dream that we woke up and all they had at the breakfast table was fruit salad."

"My guess is . . . you're really hungry," Aokawa said.

"Dear God, I am. I'm starving. What I wouldn't give for some hot coffee and two fried eggs right now."

"Well, you're getting powdered eggs and lukewarm coffee," Apone interrupted. "Quit your bitching, get dressed, and get in the mess hall."

Crowe was massaging his arms and legs to get the blood flowing again. He looked over at Dietrich, noticing a nervous look on her face. "Everything OK, birdie?"

"Um . . . yeah . . . just . . . nothing," Dietrich whispered.

"If you want to talk, I think we've got a few minutes."

"It's OK."

Shrugging, Crowe headed to his locker.

Dietrich covered her face. Her dream wasn't just a fusion of nerves and cryo; it was a fear she'd harbored for almost ten years. A fear she had even though she had proved her worth. A fear she had even though no one in the Marines had suspected anything was wrong with her.

As she had it all her life, Dietrich knew her Asperger's syndrome inside and out. It had crippled her socially. Career-wise, it was almost a blessing, especially when she was in a combat zone. Her instructors were wholly impressed at how quickly she learned. They saw it as a sign of a good medtech, and that was all they cared about.

In her civilian life, it was a completely different story. Dietrich had isolated herself when placed in situations with other children at a young age, favoring elaborate stories with dolls and stuffed animals. Of course, no one would've paid much attention if she had let others play with her, but that wasn't the case. No, she wanted to play by herself. She didn't want anyone to mess up what she already had in mind. Preschool was where it started, where her teacher noticed her lack of desire to do anything with anyone else. Her parents hoped that continued interaction would help her change. When that didn't happen, it was off to the doctor.

Even at a young age, Dietrich was fascinated with the little medical instruments and machines and anatomical charts. The nurse gave her a stethoscope and teddy bear to play with while the adults talked in the other room.

The following school year, she wasn't in a regular kindergarten classroom. She would never be in a regular classroom. Not in elementary school, or middle school, or high school.

Despite her social shortcomings, she was intelligent, reading beyond what was considered normal for her age. As time went on, as she grew older, she wanted to leave the special education rooms. She felt held back, like she wasn't being challenged, academically, but she didn't know how to word that without being blunt, and she could still remember the exact words she used, the words she used that had gotten her in a lot of trouble.

"I can't get into med school with this on my record. It'd be considered a stain. A big, dark stain. No college will take me."

Her advisor's response was something along the lines of, "You won't become a doctor with that attitude. A doctor is someone who cares about their patients. You care about no one but yourself, and that's something you can't take out into the real world. We're trying to help you with that."

Dietrich wasn't one to quit. She felt like she had no reason to stay close to home, but what else was out there?

Well, there were the Marines.

The Marines wouldn't let her in if they knew about her Asperger's. After graduating, Dietrich knew she wouldn't have to have her parents' consent to enlist. Her medical record would be wiped clean, and she didn't have to tell the recruiter about her records, despite knowing she could get in a heap of trouble for lying.

What did she have to lose, though? The Marines were her last shot at independence, to move on and not be held back anymore, to get away from and forget all of her regrets. But she knew boot camp would be stressful, and it'd be a place where she had no control over anything. She wanted this badly, and she couldn't let her oddly wired brain stop that. _You're not your condition, _she told herself on the bus to basic training. _Just do what they say. They want everything a certain way, just like you do. Just figure out what they want, and everything will fall into place._

She used her attention to detail to her advantage. She got on the good side of her drill instructors. Of course, that didn't mean much of anything, but it did mean she wouldn't be singled out. She fell into the background. Nobody cared about her difficulties making friends. Best of all, recruits were _ordered_ not to make eye contact with people. Dietrich could handle that easily.

The years after boot camp were another chapter. She found some degree of happiness. She found worth. People respected her. Yet, she wasn't completely removed from a desire for human contact. It wasn't that she didn't want it; she just didn't understand how to go about it. Dating especially was strange to her.

It wasn't until she became friends with Wierzbowski when she started to explore those feelings. Why did it have to be Wierzbowski, though? Why did it have to be someone who already had another person he loved?

_Maybe if I wasn't so slow and shy when I joined the unit, things would be different._

She had Crowe now. Crowe was perfect.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Gorman yelling, "We have less than an hour to get dressed and have breakfast! _Nobody_ gave you permission to start fucking around back here! Towers, give Spunkmeyer his belt back! Frost, none of that was funny! I catch you all messing around again, you'll be scrubbing toilets as soon as we get back to base! No leave for any of you!"

Dietrich half-expected the unit would be dining alone, much they did on the mission to LV-426. Instead, they were joined by the two other units accompanying them for this mission. Sitting next to Crowe with her tray, she glanced at the other Marines.

"You're an officer now?" One of the squad sergeants was looking at Gorman. "Jesus, seems like yesterday you were one of us."

"He is still one of us on the inside," someone else said. "That's why they call officers like him 'mustangs.'"

"Gorman's far from a wild horse," the sergeant laughed. "Now he's a fancy rat. Got pulled from the vents and into Command's pocket."

It took Dietrich a moment to realize that the sergeant was just joking. She also didn't notice Gorman had left his seat. A second later, she heard a choking sound, and turned to see Gorman had the sergeant in a chokehold.

"Not so fancy, now, huh?" Gorman hissed. "I wear the bars now, but I'm still as much as a grunt as you."

"OK, OK! I'm sorry, sir, I won't doubt you again!" the sergeant shouted.

Dietrich was about to tell Gorman to stop, then saw the two look at each other, grinning. They burst into laughter, and the sergeant slapped Gorman's shoulder. They really were just playing around. "Isn't that illegal?" she whispered.

"What?" Crowe asked.

"I didn't think an officer and enlisted Marine could put their hands on each other."

"Gorman manhandled Hudson all the time. Also, remember the time he took down Spunkmeyer after he bit me when I got my wrench stuck in one of the powerloader's joints?"

Dietrich nodded. "Yeah. You needed a few stitches."

"Six, I think. Anyway, no one'll get in trouble if Gorman doesn't say anything, so, I'd relax, birdie."

Sighing, Dietrich looked back at her breakfast tray, then she felt Crowe take her hand and gently squeeze it under the table, as if he was telling her, "I know you're a bit nervous about taking Hicks's position, but I have faith that you'll be alright."

* * *

The squads sat in a large briefing room after breakfast, where a screen displayed images of the alien creature they were up against. The images were familiar to those who had been on LV-426, and they recognized some of the information from Ellen Ripley's report of the incident on the _Nostromo_.

Gorman was silent until everyone's eyes were on him, but Dietrich could see in his body language that he wasn't good with giving speeches. "I want to make it very clear that the organism we've been tasked to destroy is not something to be trifled with." He gestured to the images on the screen. "It's a parasite that starts in an egg. If you see one of these, do not approach it. Destroy it. What comes out of the egg is a spider-like creature that grabs onto the head of its victim, and quickly renders them unconscious. While attached, the creature sticks a tube down its victim's throat, planting a very small embryo inside the chest. It remains attached for several hours, then falls off and dies. The embryo grows for about twelve hours, then violently bursts from the host's chest. From there, it becomes the creature you see here.

"It's about eight feet tall, completely black in color. The skull is long and ridged, two sets of jaws. The tip of the tail is bladed. Although the exoskeleton is hard, it is not indestructible. However, it possesses a very strong acid for blood. It will burn through human skin, bones, even certain metals. When you shoot one, do it from a distance if possible. If you can't, use flame units. They will retreat from fire, almost without fail." Gorman glanced at the Marines. "Any questions?"

No one raised their hand.

"Alright. As of now, there have been only four recorded encounters with this particular creature. The loss of the freighter _Nostromo_ was due to one infecting a crew member and destroying all but one of the rest. The Seegson supply depot Sevastopol was infested after a salvage vessel brought an infected member on board. Sergeant Apone's squad encountered one on LV-400, and the colony on LV-426 was wiped out by an infestation just last year. I can't emphasize enough just how dangerous this thing is. The worst part is that no one knows where they come from, and there are thousands of people venturing out into space who don't know about it. There are also many sentient species who may come across it, and spread it unintentionally. It's not something we can negotiate with, or make treaties with. It's something we have to exterminate. However, I don't want it to come at a high cost of Marine lives. I don't want anyone trying to play a hero when we drop. You will all follow my orders, and those of your sergeants. We're not fucking around." Gorman looked around again, waiting for anyone to raise their hand with questions. When no one did, he said, "Alright. Go get suited up."

* * *

The units each dispersed to their own locker rooms and hangar bays. Their pilots readied their dropships, and powerloader operators were busy carrying supplies and missiles. The locker rooms were noisy with everyone yelling over each other. Gorman was shouting at everyone to hurry up as he tightened the straps of his armor. In a few short minutes, the Marines were jogging out to the ready line.

Dietrich clutched her pulse rifle tightly. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was physically prepared. Being mentally prepared was another story.

Apone threw open the APC door, pushing everyone inside. It came as a slight relief to be sitting across from Crowe. Dietrich tried to smile back when Crowe smiled at her.

"Everything will be fine," he mouthed.

She nodded, wanting so bad to believe that. Every worst-case scenario was playing out in her head.

Gorman squeezed past everyone, his weapon slung across his back, to get to the command module. He'd be there for the drop, but when they left the APC, he was going, too. Putting on his headset, he looked over everyone's monitors and camera feeds. "Are we strapped in, ladies and gentlemen?"

"In and ready to go, sir!" Marda yelled before sitting and yanking her brace down.

"Alright. Ferro, how are we looking out there?"

"Clear," Ferro replied. "Initiating drop sequence." She looked at Spunkmeyer.

"Whenever you say 'mark,' honey," Spunkmeyer whispered.

"What'd I say about non-professional designations on the job?" Gorman said.

"Sorry, sir," Spunkmeyer mumbled. He took hold of his controls as Ferro started the countdown, mouthing it along with her.

Dietrich gripped her brace hard as the dropship detached from the _Sulaco_. It was the first time she had done a drop without Hudson's excited howling. It was a strange sensation. Ten years, and every single drop consisted of Hudson yelling and . . . being Hudson.

She missed him. She missed Wierzbowski. She even missed the pale green shade Drake's face would turn whenever they dropped. He never did have the strongest stomach of the crew, especially during a flight over Cetii Epsilon IV when the dropship rolled upside-down. Then again, his vomiting was more due to him panicking than the movement of the dropship.

Gorman and the pilots were in contact with the other units, filling everyone's headsets with chatter. Dietrich's thoughts seemed to drown them out, but she occasionally tuned in to listen, though she didn't hear anything interesting.

The dropship rocked a little as they entered LV-335's atmosphere. "Hold your lunches back there," Spunkmeyer said. "Clearing up soon."

The dense forest made it difficult to see a landing point, but they eventually found a large area that had been cleared for transports to take off and land. One at a time, the dropships landed.

A uniformed man came running out of one of the buildings. Gorman drew his pistol before approaching the Colonial Marshal.

"I'm not infected! Don't shoot! I've been holed up in there for three weeks-"

"For safety's sake, everyone's treated like they're infected before proven otherwise," Gorman replied, calmly. "Dietrich!"

Jogging out of the APC, Dietrich took off her medical bag. One look at the Marshal told her that he was malnourished and probably traumatized. She gestured for him to sit while she took out her supplies.

She'd feel better if Gorman wasn't observing her. When the Marshal glanced away, Dietrich took a breath, much like she did when Gorman had been watching her on LV-426, when she was examining the little girl. She had been more nervous than she was now-and Gorman was pacing around her and the Marshal with a gun in his hand.

Never in her life did she expect to be caring for children. She didn't know what to do or say when faced with Newt in the colony, so she just did her job, not bothering to interact with the girl at all. It was a natural instinct for her, and she was afraid it'd be a dead giveaway that something was wrong with her. _Plenty of people are unsure about how to act around children. Doesn't mean a damn thing. _So she worked quickly, closing up her bag and disappearing.

"He's not infected," Dietrich said, taking her stethoscope away from the man's chest. "Exhausted and malnourished, no parasite."

"I told you that," the Marshal snapped.

"Don't get mouthy with me," Dietrich snapped back. "I'm doing my job."

"Alright, that's enough." Gorman helped the two of them stand, and got between Dietrich and the Marshal. "Dietrich, go tell the others to come inside the building, including the pilots."

* * *

_Question: Despite being a medic, how has Dietrich shown a lack of empathy toward her comrades at times?_


	4. Chapter 4

Following the Marines into the complex, Dietrich listened to the Marshal explaining to Gorman what happened. She stepped closer to them, occasionally glancing back at her unit as they filed in.

". . . We couldn't find the creature when it came out of one of the hikers. It . . . vanished into the walls, and then . . . it . . . grew. Bigger and bigger. Until it was capable of . . . killing people and yanking them up into the vents. The nest . . . The nest is under the central complex. Based on the amount of people taken . . . we think there's over a hundred creatures . . . in the nest."

Gorman nodded. "How many survivors?"

"About three hundred. Evacuated to a temporary shelter thirty miles from the colony. All examined and none are infected."

"Alright. And you said the nest is under the central complex."

"Yes, sir. In the basement, close to the boilers."

"Just like with the atmosphere processor on LV-426. They like heat." Gorman glanced at his Marines, then back at the Marshal. "OK, son, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna blow every last one of them to the depths of hell they came from, in a coordinated strike. Can you close off the vents leading to the boiler rooms?"

"I can, but, the air could become unbreathable down there if I did that."

"We've got air tanks and gas masks. I want every room and vent hatch to be searched, thoroughly. Everyone will go in pairs. Smartgunners, stick with your combat partners. Dietrich, you and Marda will be together. Sergeant Wyndi!" Gorman shouted.

"Yes, sir!" The sergeant that had been messing around with Gorman during breakfast called back from the other room.

"Partner up your Vent Rats! Make sure Sergeant Keller does the same."

"Affirmative, sir!"

"When you enter a room, make sure the door behind you is closed and sealed. Same goes for the vents."

"And we just on standby, then?" Spunkmeyer said, sitting on a table.

"Yes. Go grab some pulse rifles for you and Ferro, and stay here with the Marshal."

Spunkmeyer looked a little concerned. "What if something happens?"

Gorman took a breath. "Pull out everyone you can."

* * *

The passageways leading to the basement were long and winding. Dietrich couldn't deny to herself that this was scary and unnerving-it was to everyone. She stayed by Apone, wishing Hicks was there instead of her. He was better at this.

The passageways were also dark, much like the hallway in her dream.

"Sir?" Aokawa's voice broke the silence. "I think the nest is a lot bigger than we thought. Take a look at this."

Black tendrils of resin snaked around the base of a doorway leading to a small control room. Inside, the walls were covered in the same resin. Dietrich could make out a corpse stuck to the wall, its chest split wide open.

The windows were free of resin, somehow. The Marines looked out to see a room the size of a warehouse, completely covered in black resin, and greenish leathery eggs.

"God, looks like the derelict," Frost whispered.

"Damn right," Apone replied.

"Why don't we just blow the place with explosives like we did there?"

"We have to salvage the complex," Gorman said.

"Bullshit."

"I said we're salvaging the complex, not the creatures. Alright, grab your partners, start sweeping. Keep your headsets active."

Dietrich glanced over at Marda. Months ago, she would've been doing this with Hudson.

As annoying as Hudson was, she knew she could rely on him to protect her, and everyone else.

She followed Marda down the darkened hallway. Above them, she could hear the Vent Rats crawling in the shafts. She would never understand how someone could tolerate such a job. _If I had more courage, I'd ask Gorman about it._

As they approached the corner, Dietrich felt a chill go down her spine. Something could be just around the corner, waiting for them.

Marda glanced at Dietrich, whispering, "It's clear up ahead."

Dietrich nodded, not saying a word. Nervously, she tapped her headset. "How's everyone doing?"

"We're doing OK, Dietrich. Don't use this for unnecessary chatter," Gorman replied.

"I'd certainly like to know how everyone is," Spunkmeyer said.

"And I said we're fine. Keep the lines clear, dammit."

_Hudson would be yakking up a storm right now,_ Dietrich thought. She knew she couldn't let her mind wander. _I have to focus. Keep all my senses open._

The darkness and tension reminded her a lot of the cave on Cetii Epsilon IV, where she, Wierzbowski, and Drake had to navigate their way out before the tunnels were gassed. Wierzbowski had several nasty injuries to his leg after an Annexer attack.

It probably would've been worse if Drake wasn't there. The animal wouldn't attack him, because he was covered in their pheromones. It hissed and ran when Drake charged, but it left Wierzbowski with deep wounds and fractured leg-all while they needed to escape.

Despite Dietrich not being friendly to Drake, he still went out of his way to help her. Several times, actually. He really did prove to her that he wasn't dumb or selfish or inconsiderate or any other word she had used to describe him over the years.

She never did apologize for that.

She did thank him, once.

Even though she didn't want to think about it, the memories of Wierzbowski's wedding persisted. That was when she knew a relationship with him would be impossible, and she didn't think she could find someone else that she would feel just as strongly about. It didn't seem real.

This was a happy occasion for Wierzbowski, especially after his first marriage didn't go well. No one in the unit had seen him so happy. He had found the perfect woman, the perfect partner, the perfect human being he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Eliza was a nice person. Sweet to everyone she met, mischievous and willing to push shy Wierzbowski out of his shell, unafraid to help him with his shortcomings, and wasn't overly bothered by the fact that he was once an alcoholic. She had seen that he had gotten past that, that he had improved himself and gotten sober.

She was everything Wierzbowski wanted and needed. Yet to see them so happy together hurt Dietrich on a level even she didn't understand. Why did she have to love him? Why couldn't she fix her own flaws sooner? How would things be different if she wasn't so shy and awkward?

It didn't stop her from fantasizing about taking Wierzbowski's name, about becoming his wife. It was one of those moments where she cursed her active imagination.

Even though Wierzbowski knew about Dietrich's feelings, he wanted her at the wedding. He didn't want her to be all alone on base. He still cared about her as a friend, but it was difficult to split his attention between the guests.

As she had done many times in her life, Dietrich left the party. She hid in the hallway outside the bathrooms, crying, unable to control her emotions anymore.

She had read hundreds of storybooks, but she wasn't expecting any Prince Charming to come rescue her. No, who would come to her rescue but the ugly, blond, temperamental smartgunner she tended to loathe.

Drake wasn't a party person. Having passed out due a PTSD flashback during the wedding ceremony, he was still rattled and fearing what everyone thought about him. He needed to be alone, but he didn't ignore Dietrich.

It was strange seeing Drake in a dress uniform. Drake wearing formal anything was strange. Dietrich would only admit to herself that Drake actually looked somewhat handsome in full uniform, even with the Annexer scar by his left eye. At any other point in time, Dietrich would've been upset that Drake knew about her feelings for Wierzbowski, but that day, she wanted someone to know. She couldn't bottle it up anymore.

After spilling her thoughts and feelings to Drake, Dietrich found herself being enveloped in a hug. For that moment, she took back all she felt about Drake, and hugged him back. She sobbed in the shoulder of his uniform, feeling him rub her back and hold her tight.

Never before in her life had she appreciated such a hug.

She let him know she appreciated it by thanking him during the hug. When they returned to their normal lives after the wedding, after Wierzbowski went on his honeymoon, Dietrich pondered talking to Drake again. She couldn't, as she felt immensely consumed by guilt over the amount of times she did nothing but insult him.

"Dietrich," Marda whispered.

Emerging from her thoughts, Dietrich looked at her partner, expecting a situation report.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Stay focused on the task."

The two didn't find any aliens, just open eggs and rotting corpses. Part of Dietrich was relieved they didn't encounter anything much. After making sure everything behind them was sealed, they returned to the designated command center.

The silence was broken by someone firing over their headsets. "They're camouflaged on the walls!" Caito shouted.

"Get back!" Towers pushed Caito backward to shoot at an alien reaching down to grab him. "Keep moving back! It's a dead end!"

"Gorman told us to-"

"They blocked off the door! Trying to move forward would be suicide!"

Gorman didn't speak to them until the firing had stopped. "Caito, Towers, what's the situation?"

"Sir, we can't continue the sweep in our sector. The creatures covered the door with their resin. There're probably more behind it," Towers said.

"Is the room you're in clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get back and blow the resin open with a grenade-"

"Hey, I hate to piss on your parade, Lieutenant, but the Marshal is saying that's not a good idea," Spunkmeyer said.

"How so?"

"That hallway has a lot of gas lines. They could blow up more than half the basement and get the Vent Rats killed."

Gorman let out a frustrated groan while rubbing his face. "Alright. Towers, Caito, get outta there. Make sure everything's sealed behind you."

"I think it's safe to say this isn't nearly as bad as being restricted to flamethrowers," Apone said.

"You're right, it's not, but the creatures might start holing themselves up in that corridor unless we find another way to flush them out. There's gotta be a vent system in that area. Maybe the Rats can cut it off, lay down suppressing fire while we chew up the resin on the door with bullets."

There was silence for a few more minutes, then Aokawa was heard saying, "Oh my God. There's gotta be a hundred or so eggs in here."

"Do you need backup?" Gorman asked.

"It'd be appreciated. I imagine this place is well guarded," Crowe said.

"Alright. Caito, Towers, get down there."

"We might need more than . . . two people." Aokawa started firing. "Crowe, get back! _Get back!_"

Dietrich looked out the window to see Caito and Towers sprinting across the large room. While she and Marda were out sweeping, one of the teams had destroyed the eggs that covered the room earlier. Parts of eggs and pale spiders littered the floor in slimy heaps. _Oh my God, Crowe . . ._

It was hard not to throw off her headset when gunfire made it almost impossible to hear anyone's voice. Her heart beat faster and faster. A moment later, she spotted Gorman and Apone in the room below. She could hear Gorman's voice echoing in the chamber. She felt sick with fear, and the blood drained from her face.

Marda screamed when a black claw appeared on the window. An alien began trying to ram its long skull through the glass.

"Marda, Dietrich, get outta there!" Gorman shouted. He raised his pulse rifle, taking the creature down in a few shots. "Come down to me! Apone, keep heading to the chamber!"

Sweat made the handle of Dietrich's weapon slick. She followed Marda down to the chamber. Gorman gestured for them to get behind him as he fired at another alien crawling along the ceiling. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sir," Marda replied.

"Go with Apone. Dietrich, everything OK?"

Dietrich nodded.

"Stay with me. We're heading to the chamber." Gorman led Dietrich to an open door, sealing it after they walked in. He paused, listening to something in the vents above. "Hear that?"

"What?" Dietrich whispered.

"One of them got in the vents. That's not the sound of a man crawling in there-oh, hello." Gorman looked at an open vent shaft on the ceiling.

Dietrich could see the gears in his head turning as he looked up and down the hall.

"Dietrich," he said, softly.

"Yes, sir?" Dietrich replied.

"I need you to lift me up. I need to see inside the shaft."

"Sir, there's an alien in-"

"I know. It went that way." Gorman pointed back toward the destroyed egg chamber.

"You're going to _follow it?!_"

"No. Trust me."

Sighing, Dietrich slung her weapon over her shoulder before letting Gorman climb up. She imagined he was fairly light in plain clothing. Wearing armor and gear was another story, no matter how graceful his movements were.

Gorman put the barrel of his weapon in the vent first. He looked around the dark shaft, standing on top of Dietrich's shoulders. Then he heard the sound of claws against metal, and saw something blacker than night start coming toward him.

The alien screeched as Gorman pumped several rounds into its skull. It fell against the vent, its blood eating away at the shaft. Dietrich heard a thud as the carcass partially fell through the vent, landing on the ceiling panel a few inches below.

"Gotcha." Gorman lowered himself from the vent, carefully getting off of Dietrich. "You OK?"

"Yes, sir," Dietrich said. "You?"

"Never been better. Now that's taken care of, let's keep moving."

Part of Dietrich couldn't believe Gorman just used himself as bait, and she wanted to scold him for it. But, that would be way out of line; she was in no position to give him orders. _What if that plan had gone horribly wrong?_

The plan didn't go wrong, though. So maybe it was best she stop worrying about it.

Dietrich stayed close behind Gorman. They could both hear rifles and smartguns firing in another room.

"We got a man down . . ." The combination of gunfire and a garbled signal made it difficult to hear the rest of Apone's message. ". . . Got a man down . . . Where's Dietrich?!"

"We're coming!" Gorman shouted. "Come on, move it!" He grabbed Dietrich's arm, pulling her along with him.

"Who's down?!" Dietrich yelled into her headset.

There was a reply, but it wasn't clear at all.

"Dammit!" Dietrich was about to curse again when she felt something grab her leg. She screamed at the top of her lungs when she spotted the alien in a floor vent, trying to pull her down. "_Gorman!_"

Dashing up to the vent, Gorman unleashed a hail of bullets down on the alien's head. It dropped down to the black depths, screeching, as Dietrich pulled her leg out. There was a slight hissing sound as droplets of the acid blood burned through her boots.

Unscrewing the cap of his canteen, Gorman threw water on Dietrich's left boot. Tiny trails of smoke continued to rise from the deep holes and divots in the boot itself. Dietrich sat, covering her face, almost frozen with fear.

"Dietrich. Somebody needs you," Gorman said, gently. "You're alright, let's go. It didn't get all the way through."

She wanted so badly to cry, but forced herself not to as Gorman helped her stand up.

There were several more winding halls of resin they had to go through. Gorman dropped several aliens that tried popping out of the vents in the walls and ceiling. The pale spiders tried, too, only to be blown to pieces. Shoving a new magazine into his pulse rifle, Gorman glanced over his shoulder. "Holding up back there?"

Dietrich nodded.

"We're almost there. Stay close."

As they continued, Dietrich hoped and prayed that all she had to deal with were minor scratches and burns. Anything small. Anything survivable. Anything she knew she was prepared for.

"Lieutenant, what's going on? We've got everything locked down, but we heard gunfire in your area," Sergeant Wyndi called over their headsets.

"We found an egg chamber that was heavily guarded," Gorman replied. "We've got a Marine injured. Trying to get our medtech there as fast as possible. Sons-of-bitches aren't making it easy."

"Well, I hate to make things seem worse, but you'll never believe what we've got trapped by the central boiler. Big, big bitch of a creature, just sitting on this nasty-looking sac that makes these eggs."

"If what we know is correct about how these things operates, than you've found the queen," Gorman said. "She needs to be destroyed."

"I can't imagine that'll go over well with her goons."

Gorman sighed. "Spunkmeyer, come in."

"What?" Spunkmeyer replied, his mouth full of something from a ration pack.

"Ask the Marshal if it's safe to use explosives in the central boiler room."

"Sure." Spunkmeyer disappeared for a moment, then said, "He said you'll cause a lot of structural damage if you use explosives."

Dietrich noticed a vein pop out on Gorman's forehead.

"Dammit, I really don't care about the structure anymore! We've already got somebody hurt!" Gorman snarled. "We can rebuild this piece of shit!"

Dietrich took a breath. "Let's just take care of whoever's hurt, then we'll worry about the queen."

"That sounds like a good idea. Listen to her," Spunkmeyer said.

Gorman looked at Dietrich, who immediately stared down at her boots, suddenly scared of the man who had saved her life just five minutes ago.

"Alright. It'll give us some time to think," Gorman replied, his voice softening.

Dietrich looked back up at him, but avoided eye contact.

They rounded a corner to get to the chamber. Like the one they left, it was practically destroyed, with parts of eggs and spiders and full-grown aliens lying about. Dietrich took off her medical bag. "Who's hurt?" she asked.

Aokawa emerged from a small room, face snow-white with shock. He moved to let Towers pass; she and Frost were carrying a Marine out of the room.

Dietrich fell to her knees, screaming when she saw Crowe had a pale spider wrapped around his head.

* * *

_Question: Should Dietrich attempt to make amends with Drake?_


	5. Chapter 5

Dietrich's screams echoed throughout the chamber. She screamed until she couldn't breathe. The only thing she wanted to do was scream. Her face was red and stained with tears. She hardly noticed Gorman holding her.

"What's going on down there?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"Give us a minute!" Gorman said. For a moment, he looked unsure of what to do. "Dietrich, calm down and listen to me."

"_No!_" Dietrich shouted. "_Crowe, please! Where's Wierzbowski?! WIERZBOWSKI!_"

"He's going to be fine. We just need to wait, and then you can give him the-"

"_SHUT UP!_"

The chamber fell silent, aside from Dietrich sniffing. Some of the Marines expected Gorman to scold her, while others were too stunned to think.

Gorman didn't flinch, or glare at Dietrich, or really move, for that matter. The look on his face suggested he wasn't sure how to feel.

Near Crowe's almost lifeless form, Aokawa had to sit down, weak with shock. Towers looked at him while kneeling. "Are you OK?" she asked.

"Just . . . I don't know," Aokawa replied, swallowing. "One minute, he was . . . the next . . . I didn't see it. I-I'm so sorry . . ."

"At least you're not physically hurt."

"Sir, what's going on?" Spunkmeyer asked. "I heard Dietrich screaming."

"Crowe's got one of those spider-things on him," Gorman answered.

There was silence on the other line for a few minutes. "Well . . . is there anything we can do?"

"There is, but we have to wait for it to come off of him, and for Dietrich to pull herself together. I want you and Ferro to start prepping the dropship, and put the Marshal on the line." Gorman adjusted the way he was sitting, continuing to hold Dietrich as she sobbed.

"Right, sir." Spunkmeyer left.

Dietrich looked up at Gorman, face still red and eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying. "Where's Wierzbowski?"

Gorman glanced over at Apone.

"I've never seen her break down like this, so, don't look at me." Apone sounded powerless, which was an extremely rare spectacle for everyone in his command.

Gorman sighed, returning his gaze to Dietrich. "He's on Earth, in the States. I'm sorry." He took a breath. "Can you listen to me now?"

"I want to go home," Dietrich sobbed.

"I know. If you listen to me, we'll get home a lot sooner, OK?"

Not feeling like she had a choice, Dietrich nodded, still breathing hard.

"Thank you. Now, Crowe is going to be alright. Do you remember what they taught you a couple months ago?"

Dietrich took a moment to dig back into her memories. She did remember the special meeting, back before Wierzbowski left the unit. Someone called together the medtechs in the base, gathering them in one of the classrooms.

A man in a white coat stood in front of a screen. After everyone was seated, he set a large metal box on a table, opening it to reveal several vials full of a silvery substance. "Given the events on LV-426, the botanical and medical divisions have developed a solution that should end infestations of the parasitic extraterrestrial you see here-" He pulled up images of the creature Dietrich had seen on LV-426, "before they even start." He then held up one of the vials. "You are all hopefully familiar with the silver flower, which has been developed into a chemical weapon by numerous organizations. It can be tricky to treat, even after the antidote has been injected. It causes hallucinations and severely restricts airways. If untreated, it congests the lungs and eventually causes death.

"The same, in a way, can go for the embryo of an alien parasite. Immediately after its carrier completes depositing it inside the host, that is when the creature is most vulnerable. According to reports from Hadley's Hope, patients would die during the removal of the creature because it was binding itself to various organs. The poison of the silver flower prevents those bindings from taking place, and destroys them in the process. It will kill the embryo in less than an hour. With that comes the fact that this is an extremely dangerous substance, and the patient must be immediately treated for silver flower poisoning once the alien embryo is removed."

Dietrich listened as the man explained the process while a demonstration animation played on the screen behind him. Once the spider came off the host, she would have to inject the silver flower poison into the host's arm. While the poison was working, the patient had to be prepped for surgery as soon as possible. If "soon" wasn't in the next hour, they would have to be cryogenically frozen.

"Freezing presents a challenge, albeit an easily fixable one," the doctor explained. "Silver flower poison can solidify into pearls, which are harmless unless something penetrates the shell." He displayed an image of a patient on the operating table. "There has only been one confirmed case of silver pearls in a human, a Marine, to be exact, three years ago."

_Drake._ Dietrich covered her face. She stared in awe at the gaping incision revealing her former comrade's internal organs and muscle structure. Nestled in the abdominal cavity was a transparent sac, full of silver pearls roughly the size of marbles.

She still couldn't get over the fact that it was Drake on the table. Even today.

Silver pearl removal wasn't a challenge unless they caused crowding, but after removing an alien embryo, it lengthened the surgery, as well as the patient's recovery time. To avoid this, the doctor suggested injecting the solution after taking the patient out of cryo.

Dietrich indeed remembered all that. Applying that was another question. Waiting for that damn spider to come off of Crowe would be another challenge. It would take hours.

As she came out of her thoughts, Dietrich realized Gorman was still holding her. It was tough to hug in full armor. It was tough to hug when one still had a job to do, and a big one at that. Yet he was still there.

She also realized she was shivering badly from fright, and she couldn't let go. _We have a lot of time anyway._

"Sir, we still have to deal with the hive," Apone said.

"I know," Gorman replied. "Frost, you and Towers will carry Crowe to the dropship when you get the signal from Spunkmeyer or Ferro. Dietrich, look over Aokawa. You're gonna stay here unless we need you."

"OK." Dietrich felt more fresh tears roll down her face.

Gorman gave her a sympathetic look, then looked at Frost. "Keep her company, OK?"

Frost nodded. As the unit began moving out, he sat next to Dietrich. It definitely wasn't the first time he had been the one to comfort Dietrich when she was under stress. The last time wasn't that long ago.

In the months after getting married, Wierzbowski tried to get Dietrich to make other friends within the unit. He felt it would be better for her, and she needed to get her mind off of him and the fact that they couldn't have a romantic relationship.

"You should take up a new hobby," Wierzbowski suggested. "It'll give you something else to focus on."

"Like what?" Dietrich asked.

"Well . . . I don't know. What did you do when you were younger?"

"I've told you before. Not much."

"Surely, there was something you wanted to do."

Dietrich thought for a moment. "I did want to take a fighting class, but I think some people were afraid that I would just use it to . . . outright beat up people who teased me. Not just defend myself when need be, just straight-up attacking people out of nowhere, because they knew I had a short temper."

Wierzbowski nodded. "I don't see it in you, though. I mean, I know you've hit people a few times, but they did provoke you. It's not right what you've done-"

"Hitting Drake in the stomach with a frozen water bottle was wrong, I know."

"It was. As was beating Spunkmeyer over the head with it. And throwing a bedpan at Hudson. And scratching the paint on the powerloader when Spunkmeyer refused to shut up about it."

"I know. All of that was wrong. Even if they-"

"Nobody deserved any of that, alright?"

"OK."

"Alright. Now, I think that if you learn how to fight and defend yourself, it'll be a better way to take out your stress and anger at people, because you can hit a punching bag and not Hudson or whoever's pissing you off at the moment. They tend to not appreciate that."

"So, who's going to teach me this? Hicks?"

"Frost."

"I barely talk to him, though."

"That's the point. This will help you get to know people, and just . . . get to know people. You need friends, Dietrich. You can't have just me. It's not healthy." Wierzbowski gave Dietrich a sympathetic look. "Besides, I . . . I need to put a bit more focus into my marriage. There's nothing wrong, but I want to prove that even though I have to spend a lot of time away from Eliza, I'm still going to be the best husband I can possibly be. I made vows to her, and I can't break them." He glanced at Dietrich's hand, and resisted the urge to hold it. "I know you still feel something for me."

Dietrich looked down at her lap, tears running down her face.

"Please, Dietrich, I'm not upset. I want to help you. I know I don't feel the same way about you that you do for me, but I'm still your friend. That won't change, I promise. All I ask is that you form your own support system. I won't always be there for you. It would make me happy to see you happy." Wierzbowski leaned in to whisper. "You don't have to let your Asperger's run your life. I went through the same thing when I drank. I know they're not the same thing, but . . . the idea is the same; I know it feels like something you can't control at times, but if you fight hard enough, you can gain better control of it. I know this is something you've had since birth and you feel as though that means you can't do anything about it. You can do something if you try. Don't let it barrel over you." He took her hand. "It's not too late to better yourself. Do you trust me?"

Dietrich nodded.

"OK. Let's go talk to Frost about teaching you a few things. I think this'll be good for you."

Wierzbowski wasn't wrong about Frost being helpful. Without asking a lot of questions, he started coaching Dietrich on offensive and defensive stances, and basic ways of defending herself in hand-to-hand combat. It took a few weeks before Dietrich began talking to Frost about more than just combat. Their sessions became full of much more interesting conversations, but Dietrich certainly wasn't ready to tell him her big secret.

Regardless, Frost understood Dietrich needed a lot of patience, but didn't deny her talents as a medic, and as a fighter. "You're a pretty quick learner," he said. "I can see why they moved you up to corporal so fast."

Dietrich gave a slight smile. "I guess I'm exceptionally good at what I do."

"You 'guess?' Come on, Dietrich, we've all, at one point or another, seen you work. You're fast and thorough, and you don't leave a stitch out of place."

"To be honest, sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my talents when all I do is work on Hudson's complaints all day."

"Well, it's a blessing to us, because we don't have to listen to his complaining anymore." Frost offered a small smile, but it faded when Dietrich glared at him. "Alright, I'll be serious, I think . . . I think that's something you'd have to deal with if you were a civvie doctor. I mean, you wouldn't be dealing with the same person every single day, but you'd be dealing with a lot of small, minor things most of the time, and it would get boring. That's life."

Dietrich nodded a little, thinking Frost had a point.

She was jolted from her thoughts when she saw Towers placing Crowe on a stretcher. The spider thing was still there. She could see the sacs on the sides of the spider slightly inflating and deflating, like an airbag. Crowe's chest seemed to be rising and falling naturally. She couldn't bear to think that thing was gradually pushing a tiny, undeveloped alien into his body.

No matter how much she wished she could do something now, she couldn't. In her training, she remembered the doctor saying that a premature injection might kill the patient, because the risk of the spider making a last-ditch effort to implant its offspring was too high. Injecting the spider directly might cause the patient to suffocate.

Tears choked her. Kneeling by Crowe, Dietrich covered her face. She felt overcome with a sense of desperation, and reached out. The spider responded by tightening its tail around Crowe's neck.

"Fuck you," Dietrich spat.

* * *

Further within the complex, an enormous beast guarded the last remaining eggs in the hive. The queen's protection was being stripped away as the Marines persisted through, headed by one very determined lieutenant. The only way to produce more drones was to take hosts, but the Marines weren't easy to take.

It didn't make them invincible. Sergeant Wyndi was wounded with bad scratches on his leg and burns on his arm. Caito was almost dragged through the ceiling, and fell hard enough to sprain an ankle. The injuries kept on coming, as did the aliens, and Gorman wasn't sure whether this was a good idea. He anticipated that the paths leading to the queen would be guarded. Had most of the hive camped out here?

He didn't have to wonder long as he stumbled out of the passageway into a massive dark room. He first saw several closed eggs scattered across the floor, and looked between the giant hot water tanks to see the large creature perched on a pale yellowish sac extending beneath her. A clear, thick substance dripped from her mouth as she peered out from under the large crest on her head.

And she looked directly at Gorman. Looked, sensed, whatever it was she used in place of eyes. For Gorman, it was just natural to look at the queen's eyeless head. A part of him was shocked that she wasn't immediately attacking. Then again, perhaps she couldn't.

Attacking the queen first would make whatever was left of the hive more aggressive. Attacking the eggs would probably elicit a similar reaction.

Gorman spotted the contorted corpses of colonists stuck to the walls of the hive. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the queen still facing him. Was that a . . . _grin_ on her face?

_They don't like fire. That'll wipe that Goddamn grin off her face. _Gorman didn't have a flamethrower at the moment. He backed into the tunnel. "What's the situation?"

"Less and less creatures are coming. We think we've exhausted the hive," a young man from one of the other squads called.

"So, all we have left to deal with are the eggs and Big Mama out there."

"Looks like it, sir."

"Well, I don't think she can move much with that egg sac," Gorman said. "Torching the eggs will piss her off mightily, but there's nothing she can do. Anyone got a flamethrower I could borrow?"

* * *

"I'm gonna run one of the stretchers down to the guys," Spunkmeyer said. "People are getting hurt left and right. Somebody just went down with a busted ankle."

"Sweetie, please, for the love of God, be careful," Ferro replied. "Is your gun fully loaded?"

"Sure is. I'm always loaded." Spunkmeyer winked.

Ferro covered her microphone. "Hey, now is not the time for filthy humor. Gorman will boot your ass into next week."

Before Ferro could put her helmet on, Spunkmeyer kissed her full on the lips.

"OK, now you're just being . . . you. We don't have time for this. Go take the stretchers down, and hurry back."

"I love you." Spunkmeyer flashed Ferro a grin before ducking into the back of the dropship. He nuzzled her face.

Ferro sighed, closing her eyes and smiling. "After so many years, you still keep yourself scruffy."

"I keep my stubble so I can look a little older," Spunkmeyer whispered. "You know that."

"So, will you shave when we get our discharges?"

"I'll think about it." Spunkmeyer kissed her again. "I'll be back."

Ferro watched Spunkmeyer jog off the dropship, and sighed again. She began prepping the dropship, so they could immediately take off when the wounded were brought on board.

She was indeed worried about the others, especially since she couldn't be with them. Crowe getting attacked by a spider was horrifying, even though she knew there was a way to help him. She was no doctor, but she did hear that this new treatment was largely untested. It was a huge risk, but a risk everyone seemed to be willing to take.

Twenty minutes later, Spunkmeyer said over her headset. "Alright, I'm coming back."

"What took you so long?" Ferro asked.

"It's a long walk. Relax."

Ferro gave a more annoyed sigh. "Please, be safe, Spunkmeyer," she whispered, barely audible to anyone listening over the radio. She didn't want another situation like LV-426, where an alien had strayed from the hive to attack the two pilots and the little girl they were safeguarding. So she spent the next several minutes praying.

She looked over her machinery several times, then sighed again. "Spunkmeyer?"

"What?" he asked.

"Where are you?"

"I'm leaving the complex, my dear."

Ferro bit her lip. "You're really not acting urgent enough for anyone's liking," she whispered to herself. "No wonder you and Gorman butt heads every damn day. It's not just the stupid which-city's-pizza-is-better rivalry."

She perked up when she heard someone coming up the ramp, but then her blood froze when she heard a heavy _thud_. "Spunkmeyer?"

No answer, but she heard some static.

_Oh, God, no._ "Spunkmeyer! Goddammit . . ." She turned back to her dashboard, cursing. Then she heard the cockpit door slide open behind her. She whirled around in her seat. "Well, where the fuck-"

* * *

_Question: Would Dietrich have benefited from Wierzbowski being present during this mission?_


	6. Chapter 6

Spunkmeyer was standing in the cockpit doorway, covering the left side of his face with his hand. He smiled, despite being in pain. "I tripped."

Ferro's jaw had dropped. There were a lot of things she wanted to say, but she couldn't decide what to say first. She released her breath, and glared at Spunkmeyer. "You had me scared half to death! Dammit, you couldn't say anything?!"

Spunkmeyer's smile got bigger. "Look, I know you're upset, but . . . I just tripped and hit my face on the deck, and I'd like some ice or something-are you crying?"

Ferro threw down her helmet, grabbing Spunkmeyer in a hug. "I hate you so much. You scared me. Don't ever do that again."

"What, don't trip ever again? Honey, I . . . OK, if you hate me so much, what's with the hugging?"

"You could've said something!" Ferro shook him hard, wishing she could backhand him if he wasn't hurt.

"I couldn't! I knocked my headset off by accident." Spunkmeyer hugged Ferro back, then looked her in the eye. He smiled again, then kissed her full on the lips.

Ferro squeezed him hard, continuing the kiss. Spunkmeyer pulled apart once to breathe, and whispered, "I'm sorry I scared yous."

"You've got this big bruise above your left eye, sweetie," Ferro whispered. "I'll ask Dietrich for some ice when she gets here with the others."

"How long till they do?"

"Gorman hasn't said."

"Then that gives us some time." Spunkmeyer planted another kiss on Ferro's lips.

* * *

Dietrich was able to busy herself with treating the wounded. She was certain that not even an hour had passed since Crowe was ambushed. Was this really going to be several hours until the spider finished its job?

Wrapping Sergeant Wyndi's burns, Dietrich looked toward the tunnel the rest of the Marines went down to confront the queen. She could hear shouting, and then a loud _bang_, followed by Apone jogging out, most of Wyndi's squad in tow.

"Come on, move it, people!" Apone yelled. Smoke seemed to follow the Marines as they came, and then they heard a single inhuman scream.

Towers's gaze flicked from one Marine to the next. "Where's Gorman?" She sounded like she was about to cry, then stood up, running toward the tunnel. "Gorman! _Gorman!_"

"Are you outta your mind?!" Apone grabbed Towers by the back of her armor. "No one said you could go back there!"

"_Gorman, no!_" Tears began streaming down Towers's face.

From the thickening smoke emerged a battered and filthy lieutenant, leaning against the wall as he staggered out to the rest of his Marines. His face was covered in soot and grime, and he coughed hard before getting on his knees and vomiting a grayish substance. Shakily, he got back on his feet, chest heaving. "OK . . ." he rasped, "let's get the fuck outta here."

Towers threw her arms around Gorman. One hand still on the wall, Gorman returned the gesture with his other arm. "Queen's gone," he said. "That boiler room's gonna need a lot of repairs, but we did it. I torched the eggs. There shouldn't be anymore creatures in here."

"Alright, people start loading the wounded on your dropships," Apone ordered.

Dietrich knelt by Crowe as everyone moved around her. Sure enough, the spider was still there. Without hesitation, she took Crowe's limp hand, squeezing it as she sobbed again.

"Worry about me last, sweetheart, go help get Crowe on board," Gorman said to Towers. "Dietrich."

Dietrich wasn't listening.

Gorman took a breath. "Dietrich, come here. I need your help."

Gently releasing Crowe's hand, Dietrich stood up. "Yes, sir?"

"I gotta lean on you, I'm sorry. Some tank blew up in there while everyone was leaving. I got the worst of it after the queen. Shrapnel blew right through her, tore up the egg sac, too. Never seen so much gunk in my life."

"Are you hurt?" Dietrich asked.

"Don't think so."

"You need water, that's for sure. And I'll look you over for injuries, but I think you're just dazed and exhausted."

"I'd very much like to go home and see my wife."

* * *

One of the squads made one final sweep before giving the all-clear to the Marshal back in the main complex. He was relieved to the point of almost collapsing.

Word had to be sent out to the evacuated colonists. Dietrich stayed with the wounded, and Crowe. Several hours had passed, and the spider showed no sign of moving.

Aokawa was just in shock, but he was gradually improving as time went on. Caito's ankle would heal in a couple of weeks. Gorman had cuts and bruises, and as Dietrich predicted, he was mentally and physically exhausted.

"Hey! I see you two up there!" Gorman snarled when he spotted Spunkmeyer and Ferro kissing passionately in the dropship's cockpit. He let go of Dietrich to angrily limp up the ramp.

Carrying Crowe's stretcher with Frost, Towers laughed as Gorman stormed into the dropship, and Dietrich turned around to glare at her.

"Oh, Spunkmeyer's going to have his butt kicked," Towers said.

Dietrich felt something in her chest snap. "Is everything a fucking joke to you?"

Towers's smile faded. "What?"

"You! Everything is a Goddamn joke to you! How the fuck are you in the Marines if you can't take anything seriously?! Crowe has this parasite on his face, and you turn around and ask the guy who fucking failed to protect him if he's OK?!"

"It's a perfectly reasonable thing to ask," Towers replied, genuinely confused. "He could've been hurt just as bad as Crowe."

"You know what this thing is, right?" Dietrich pointed at the spider on Crowe's head.

"I can see it clear as day, Dietrich, and, yes, I know what it is. I know what it does. As long as I'm a Marine, I'm going to make sure my teammates are OK. I'd think that, as the medic, you would, too. Not just your boyfriend."

Dietrich's face heated up. "How did you-"

"People talk. It's not a secret." Towers gestured for Frost to keep moving.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" Dietrich spat.

Towers didn't say a word, but did flip Dietrich off as she continued toward the dropship.

Gorman appeared on the ramp. "What the hell's taking so long? Get in here!"

Dietrich remained flush and angry as she followed the others up the ramp. More than ever, she wished Wierzbowski was there.

Crowe was strapped down for the flight back to the _Sulaco_. Towers ignored Dietrich as she took a seat across from Gorman, and Dietrich struggled to hide the fact that she wanted to cry. She wanted Crowe. She wanted Wierzbowski.

She wanted someone that understood.

She heard something wet, then saw the spider remove itself from Crowe's head. It crawled off the stretcher before suddenly turning on its back and curled its legs inward.

Gorman stood up, taking the creature by the tail before throwing it out of the dropship. He gave Dietrich's shoulder a gentle squeeze before sitting next to her. "Gateway's equipped to deal with this kind of surgery. We'll put Crowe in hypersleep as soon as we get on the _Sulaco_." He looked her in the eye. "You OK?"

Dietrich nodded.

"Hey, we're not running around right now. You can talk about anything."

"I'd rather do it in private." Dietrich took a breath, trying to keep herself from shivering with nerves.

"If that's what you want."

* * *

The unit was very much relieved to return to the transport, and wash away the sweat and blood and slime of the hive.

"What's this I hear you and Ferro were locking lips in the cockpit?" Apone said to Spunkmeyer before getting in the shower.

"Oh, come on, I already got this from Lieutenant Hoity-Toity!" Spunkmeyer rolled his eyes before covering his face with an icepack.

"And now you're getting it from me. You know the rules on and off the job."

While Spunkmeyer was getting an earful, Frost and Towers carried the still unconscious Crowe to a cryotube. After setting him in, Dietrich began programming the tube. She watched it close over Crowe, and watched ice slowly form on the inside.

The others had showered and dressed down, talking and laughing while Gorman herded them into the mess hall. Dietrich sat where she and Crowe usually sat, and a heavy feeling came over her heart as she tried to process him not being there. She couldn't bring herself to eat, despite not having eaten in several hours.

She would take water, though. However, when she put the glass to her lips, the water tasted . . . rather salty. Not expecting this in the slightest, she spit it on the table. She turned red with embarrassment when she realized everyone was staring at her.

"Is . . . everything OK, Dietrich?" Caito asked.

"Anyone else have salty water?" Dietrich said.

Confused looks were exchanged all around.

"Something probably busted in the dispenser," Gorman said. "We'll take a look at it afterward."

As the Marines put their belongings back in their lockers, Dietrich noticed Gorman taking Towers aside, and going into a small room nearby.

"Did you put salt in Dietrich's water?" Gorman asked.

"Oh, come on, anyone could've done that," Towers said.

"You're the only person who was putting salt in my coffee for the last five years. I know just about every trick in your book, and I also know you only do stuff like that when you're upset with somebody. Care to tell me what's going on?"

Towers sighed. "Dietrich is just . . . impossible to be around. How anyone can work with her, I'll never understand. All I did was ask Aokawa if he was OK, and she lost her shit with me. Like her fucking boyfriend is more important than everyone else in this squad."

"Alright. Dietrich is pretty distraught right now over Crowe. I'm not excusing her behavior, but I do want you to think about how you would feel if you were in her place. I heard you calling for me when we were leaving the hive. If something happened to me, I think you'd be really upset as well. Like I said, I'm not excusing her behavior, but I don't think it was necessary you put salt in her water. I'll talk to her when we get to Gateway and she knows Crowe is OK. She'll have a clearer head then. Go get ready for cryo."

Towers left the room, heading for her locker. Gorman followed, taking his T-shirt off. Neither of them had any idea Dietrich was listening.

Half-listening. Dietrich was in front of her locker, looking at photographs from the last ten years that she kept in a small scrapbook. The most recent ones were of her and Crowe. They had once taken leave at an amusement park, spending most of their change at a photo booth. She had never smiled so much before. Past those were mainly of her and Wierzbowski, having fun and goofing around with each other.

She also found the photos from the night before Hudson left the Marines. She remembered it was one of a few times she wasn't annoyed with him, because she knew she was going to miss him. He gave her a big bear-hug that night, and there was photo evidence to prove it. A part of her wished they hugged more. Under that was a rare picture of her and Drake. He had his arm around her, and was pressing her close. And she had her arm draped on his shoulder.

_It's not too late to fix things, is it?_ Dietrich wondered if that picture showed more than a temporary truce. She wondered if Drake had forgiven her for all the insults over the years. Or maybe he never hated her at all. Maybe she just didn't want to let him-or anybody else-in.

Of course, Wierzbowski had to go and change that, make her see just how much she wanted human companionship. She could remember, though, having a crush on Spunkmeyer when she first joined the unit. He was new as well, and had a slightly confused look about him that she found adorable. That crush ended after a fairly short while, as she couldn't bring herself to talk to him.

Overall, it was Wierzbowski who helped her feel more courageous about talking to people. After all, she joined the Marines to finally ditch the people who saw her diagnosis, and weren't sure how to help her. The squad valued her. She had heard them say she was talented, despite her awkwardness. They all felt she was gifted. Nobody back home felt she was gifted. They were too focused on tackling her weaknesses, rather than honing her strengths. How much would change if that had happened?

Dietrich closed her locker, joining the rest of the squad as they lay down in their cryotubes. Only one was already asleep. Her heart aching, Dietrich got in her cryotube, hoping she would have better dreams this time around.

* * *

She saw herself standing by a hospital bed, holding Crowe's hand. He was smiling at her, like he always did. "It's OK, birdie, it's OK . . ." he said, softly.

No, it was not OK.

His grip on her hand tightened as pain surged through him. She heard a snapping sound. Crowe shouted. Still he refused to let go of Dietrich's hand, even as blood erupted from his chest. He screamed more. Blood soaked the entirety of his hospital gown.

When the shrieking worm tore through the gown, Dietrich saw it was covered in blood, shreds of Crowe's organs, and a silvery slime. It pulled itself from Crowe's body, a placenta of silver trailing from the open wound as it slithered out . . .

A blast of cold air filled the cryotube, and Dietrich slowly awoke. She couldn't jolt. It would be another few minutes before she could move, and by then, she told herself that it was just a bad dream.

She was approached by a half-naked Gorman. "Crowe's waking up," he said. "It's time."

Quickly rubbing the cryo out of her muscles, Dietrich went to Crowe's tube. He looked confused as he sat up. "Jesus Christ, what happened?"

"You were attacked by the spider," Dietrich replied. "We're back at Gateway. Yes, you have . . . a-a parasite inside you, but we're gonna take care of it, I promise." Tears ran down her face.

Crowe's face paled. Unconsciously, he put his hand over his chest. "I trust you, birdie." He then held out his hand for her to hold.

"I love you," Dietrich sobbed.

"I love you, too." He gently took her head to kiss her. "Do what you have to do."

After getting dressed, Dietrich took out one of the vials of silver flower poison from a kit. She took a shaky breath as she dipped a needle into it, filling it. When she closed the vial, she stared at the needle, taking another breath.

She covered the needle, helping Crowe stand before walking with him and Gorman to an airlock connecting the _Sulaco_ with Gateway. They were met immediately by the quarantine officers, and several doctors in masks and scrubs. One was standing behind a gurney.

"History has shown letting one of these things past quarantine never ends well," one of the officers muttered.

"Well, we have the cure." Gorman gestured to the needle in Dietrich's hands.

They were all led to the station hospital. Dietrich tried to get herself to stop shaking. Crowe touched her arm. "I'll be alright, birdie," he whispered.

She nodded a little, and kissed his cheek. She placed the tip of the needle against Crowe's arm, and then pushed it into a vein.

Crowe convulsed when she removed the needle, and suddenly Dietrich felt powerless. Almost immediately, the doctors pulled the gurney out of the room, rushing Crowe down the hall to a prepped operating room.

When she stepped out into the hall, the rest of the squad was waiting. She felt liked crying, but didn't know if she wanted to do so in front of everyone. However, the force of her emotions smashed down her defenses like a tidal wave, and she began to sob.

Ferro left the group to put her arms around Dietrich, hugging her for a few minutes before suggesting they go down to a café to have coffee. After Gorman dismissed them, Spunkmeyer followed Ferro and Dietrich out of the hospital.

"They'll let you know when he's out," Ferro said, sitting across from Dietrich inside one of the cafés just outside the hospital.

"It'll probably be a few hours at most," Spunkmeyer replied. "They gotta split his chest wide open."

"Can't imagine the recovery will be a piece of cake."

"Don't say 'cake.' I'm starving." Spunkmeyer glanced at the menu above the counter. "They got muffins. Close enough. I'll be right back."

Dietrich looked at Ferro. "The recovery will be a few months. He'll probably be allowed to go home, but then he has to come back. He should be in contact with someone who'll let him know if we change bases in that time."

"Does Crowe have family?" Ferro asked.

"His mother, one brother, one sister. Father's . . . there, but not pleasant to be around. Well . . . actually, Crowe told me he's softened up a little bit, but he's still bitter about certain things in the past."

"At least he's got people to help him out. I know you wish you could go with him."

"I probably can for a few days, but . . . I've told him I'm not . . . I'm not ready to meet his family."

"Completely understandable. Spunkmeyer was absolutely terrified when I took him to meet my parents. Honestly, I was a little nervous, too, but it went surprisingly well. They liked him. He kept the New York-isms to a minimum, kept the swearing to a minimum. I mean, he started saying 'fuck' after my dad said it, and I think that helped them bond."

"Why're you telling her about that?" Spunkmeyer asked, sitting down with his muffin and coffee.

"Why not? She's worried about meeting Crowe's family someday."

"Oh. Listen, it's a lot less stressful for the girl than it is for the guy," Spunkmeyer said.

"Not in my case," Dietrich replied.

"Hey, at least Ferro doesn't have to worry about that with me. Dad's dead and Mom's in jail, and I sure as hell ain't making her meet Kendriss." Spunkmeyer patted Ferro's shoulder. "It went OK in the end. Her parents don't hate me. I think you'll be fine, Dietrich."

"I hope so." Dietrich took a sip of her coffee. "Is it . . . OK I go down to the comm center? I want to call 'Ski."

"Sure. We'll wait for you outside."

"You don't have to."

"I think it's best you have some company right now," Ferro said. "You shouldn't go through this alone."

_She's right. Plus, I don't want to be alone in the first place._ Dietrich nodded. "I appreciate it."

* * *

Ferro held everyone's coffee while sitting on a bench outside the comm center, and Spunkmeyer walked Dietrich in. "I'll stay with you until the signal connects," he said.

Dietrich sat in front of a screen, putting in the code Wierzbowski had given her months ago. As she waited, she turned to face Spunkmeyer. "Um . . . can I tell you something? Since . . . Since it's just us?"

"Yeah."

Dietrich looked in Spunkmeyer's eyes. For once, she didn't instinctively look away. She remained locked on them, scanning their hazel depths. She remembered finding them the prettiest shade of hazel she had ever seen. "Do you remember . . . when you first joined the unit?"

"I do. What about it?"

"When you first joined, I thought you were cute, and . . . I liked you."

"So, it's not just Crowe and Wierzbowski you've had the hots for." Spunkmeyer grinned.

"No. I . . . I dunno. I wanted to tell you, because . . . I want a clean slate with everyone."

"You're getting things off your chest. That's OK."

"You're not upset?"

"Not at all." Spunkmeyer kept his smile. "Honestly, I don't think I've ever told you how much I appreciate all you do, so . . . thank you for the last ten years of putting up with my crap and everyone else's crap."

Dietrich smiled a little.

Spunkmeyer opened his arms. "Friends?"

Dietrich nodded, hugging him. She noticed the screen changing from the corner of her eye, and let go of Spunkmeyer.

"Alright. I'll leave you alone, now." Spunkmeyer got up just as Wierzbowski appeared on screen.

Dietrich felt better seeing him, but it didn't stop tears running down her face as she thought about Crowe. "Hey, 'Ski."

"Hey, Dietrich." Wierzbowski like he had just gotten out of the shower. "Been thinking about you. I knew I'd probably hear from you around this time, and I'm glad to see you're alright."

"Yeah. Everyone's . . . alright. For the most part."

Wierzbowski frowned. "I'm not getting that from the sound of your voice."

Dietrich took a breath. "Crowe . . . Crowe got one of those creatures stuck to his face, and it planted an . . . alien inside him. He's in treatment right now."

"My God." Wierzbowski looked lost for words. "How are you doing?"

"I'm holding up. Just scared and a little lonely."

"Can't imagine this has been easy for you. If they let you, feel free to visit us. The missus will make you a cup of tea."

"Thanks, 'Ski. They're . . . They're probably going to let Crowe go home for recovery. It'll be a few months."

"OK. You'll be able to visit, maybe stay with him a few days." Wierzbowski fell silent. "Oh, I have something that'll make you feel better. Last week, one of my instructors was very impressed with how I performed on a field test. I said I had the best teacher in the world back in the Marines."

Dietrich managed another smile.

"There's the smile I wanted to see." Wierzbowski grinned. "How's everyone else?"

"Fine. Minor injuries, and-" Dietrich paused when she saw movement over her shoulder, and turned to see Gorman walking in.

"And what?"

"Sorry, Gorman walked in."

"Hello, sir!" Wierzbowski called.

Gorman smirked at them. "How's it going, Wierzbowski?"

"Very well, sir. You haven't been giving Dietrich too hard a time, have you?"

"No." Gorman's smile faded. "But we do need to have a talk when I'm done calling my wife."

* * *

_Question: How might an outsider view Dietrich and Towers's conflict?_


	7. Chapter 7

It seemed only natural that Dietrich was afraid she was in a heap of trouble if Gorman wanted to talk to her in private. Then again, she couldn't tell if Gorman was actually mad with her. He seemed very happy to be talking to his wife after a month.

After finishing her conversation with Wierzbowski, Dietrich left the comm room, sitting next to Ferro and Spunkmeyer on a bench. "Where to next?" Ferro asked. "I'm pretty sure the military-designated sector has a lounge for us."

"Can't," Dietrich said. "Gorman wants to see me in private when he's done talking to his wife."

"Oh. Is . . . everything OK?"

"I blew up on Towers before we left for the transport. I guess he wants to punish me for it."

"What happened?"

"I was . . . upset that she asked if Aokawa was OK. I was mad because I felt like he failed to protect Crowe. I really shouldn't have been upset at all."

"I can't blame yous for being a little mad at Aokawa, even though it probably wasn't his fault," Spunkmeyer said. "Mad at Towers, though? That's . . . a little silly if you ask me."

"I didn't know what to do with that anger."

Spunkmeyer shrugged. "Been there. I don't think Gorman will be too hard on yous. He seems pretty understanding."

"Yeah. And we'll be here to talk when he lets you go," Ferro added.

"If anything happens with Crowe, you'll be the first to know. I promise."

Dietrich nodded. She remained silent for the next several minutes, and realized she was shivering when she heard Gorman leave the comm room.

"Dietrich? Would you come with me, please?" Gorman gestured for Dietrich to follow him.

Both Spunkmeyer and Ferro gave Dietrich's shoulders a gentle pat before she stood up. Gorman walked her down to a hallway of rooms there weren't being used.

"Are you cold?" Gorman asked.

Wanting to cover her nerves, Dietrich replied, "Yes."

Gorman unzipped his coat. "Here. You can borrow this."

Dietrich draped the coat over her shoulders, noticing Gorman had a loose-fitting sweater underneath. There was no need to ask if he'd be cold.

"Alright, now that we're alone, we can discuss what happened on LV-335." Gorman folded his arms over his chest. "I understand you're under a lot of stress because of Crowe. That doesn't mean you can take out your frustration on anyone, especially for a reason as silly as Towers asking if Aokawa was OK. You're a grown woman, and a Marine. A Marine medtech, no less."

Dietrich looked down at the floor. "I know it was stupid, and I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. You're going to apologize to Towers and Aokawa when I'm done with you." Gorman shifted his weight. "Dietrich? Can you look at me, please?"

She didn't want to. Tears were in her eyes, and she felt like looking at him would show him there wasn't something right with her. Beyond just being nervous.

Gorman was silent, and that just terrified Dietrich more. _He's going to think I'm a screw-up. All I did was panic during the mission, and get angry with everyone around me. All I cared about was Crowe._

"Dietrich, it's just the two of us. Is there something you want to talk about? You seemed to be really afraid to talk in front of Towers."

Her throat closed with tears, and then she sobbed. "I'm such a disappointment to you! And everyone else!"

Gorman's gaze softened. "No, Dietrich, that's not true. You're not a disappointment to anyone."

"Yes, I am!"

"Dietrich, you're really not, OK? Look, you've been in the Marines for a little over ten years. You've got one of the most difficult jobs in the Corps. People are impressed by you. I'm impressed by you. You are far from a disappointment."

"It doesn't feel like that sometimes."

Gorman fell silent again, and tried to look Dietrich in the eye. "Has . . . anyone ever told you that before?"

Dietrich looked down again, and shook her head.

"Well, may I be the first to say it?"

"I don't believe it. I panicked today. I've panicked before. I . . . I've been a mess ever since Wierzbowski left, even though I have Crowe, and he's trying to help. I've never impressed anyone."

She could tell from the look on Gorman's face that he was trying to read between the lines of what she was saying. After almost a full minute of thinking, he said, "I have observed you struggling to adapt to Wierzbowski not being in the unit anymore. I could tell you two were close. You weren't . . . a disappointment to him, were you?"

"No."

"See? You had someone who believed in you. I know we haven't talked much outside of when duty calls, but it's . . . it's not that hard to see that . . . you don't let people in, like you're afraid of them hurting you, or vice versa. I guess that's why you have a lot of 'keep out' signs on your armor. Even your T-shirt here. I'm also guessing . . . you weren't supported at home. You didn't leave any contact information for relatives on your papers."

Dietrich nodded. _I can't tell him why. He'll have me kicked out for lying about my medical history. I could be fined, put in jail, and then . . . then I'd never see Crowe again. Or 'Ski. _"All anyone cared about was making me more social. No one . . . asked or cared about what I was actually good at."

"They didn't see how gifted you are."

_Gifted._ How she wished someone at some point in her life would say that word to her. Gifted. It was strange and almost foreign, because no one made her feel gifted. Hell, she preferred "gifted" to "special." "Special" was ironic. She never once felt special in the "special" classrooms, but she couldn't say that. She felt more like a curse. Her interests, too, felt like a plague, especially when people told her they were bored of hearing about it, and she needed to learn when to just stop talking. So she learned to conceal them and enjoy them privately. It made everyday conversations a lot more difficult, because she couldn't keep any talks going. She hated small talk, yet she knew if the topic turned to her interests, she would ruin her relationship with whoever she was talking to, because she couldn't figure out when she was going too far, and when the other person lost interest.

Her school didn't have any gifted programs. Even if they did, would she even have been accepted into them? Would they weigh the pros and cons of her syndrome? Would they consider the fact that she'd be happier, maybe find friends like herself, if they let her really pursue her career, or were the social deficiencies too big? Were they concerned about her going the rest of her life alone, and potentially depressed?

The past was the past. The Marines let her show she was talented. "Gifted," as Gorman said.

Of course, she didn't know how to thank him. It seemed silly to thank him, yet she wanted to. A simple thank-you wasn't enough, so she hugged him, burying her face in his sweater, muffling her sobs.

When she felt him hug her as well, she breathed a silent "Thank you," overjoyed that he understood. All was quiet, aside from her breathing and the steady throbbing of Gorman's heart. "I'm sorry I was so scared of you."

"Oh, don't be sorry." Gorman smirked. "There are other officers who are scared of me." He rubbed her back, feeling her grip tighten. "You wanna hear a funny story?"

"Sure."

"Alright. People thought I was gifted when I was growing up. I was put in one advanced program after another when I reached junior high. Sure, I could do the work, but you know what?"

"What?"

"I didn't enjoy it very much. Most everyone in that program were aiming to be doctors, nurses, entrepreneurs, lawyers, you name it. I had no idea what I wanted. Hell, I didn't even know why I was there. I got an exceptionally high score on a piece of paper. That's it. I also couldn't do public speaking. They made me retake the course every year. No matter how hard I tried to apply what they taught me, every time I got up to do a speech on whatever they wanted, I froze. I started to shake bad and then covered my face with my paper before going back to my seat, in total shame. Somehow, they still had me set to graduate early. Only issue I had with that was I still didn't know what my path in life was. I wanted more time. The summer before my final year, I was at a mall, completely by myself. I just got my first car and I was going further and further outside my hometown in Massachusetts, because I felt like that'd be the only way to figure what I really wanted. The Marines had a recruiting booth up.

"They didn't talk to us much about the military when I was in school, so I was curious. I mulled it over while sitting in the food court. Then I saw the recruiter order a small basket of Chinese dumplings and rice, and sat by himself nearby. Where I got the courage, I don't know, but I picked up my sandwich and went over to him, saying, 'Sir, I saw the recruiting station when I walked in, and I was wondering if you could tell me what the Marines have to offer.' Now, I'm pretty sure this guy had heard that a thousand times, but I don't think it was ever in this setting, where someone approached him while he's on his break. He gives me this big smile, gestures for me to sit, and gives a basic rundown on the benefits and stuff I could get from becoming a Marine.

"He then asked me to tell him a little bit about myself. I said, 'Well, this is my last year of high school. I've been in a bunch of advanced academics, but I still don't know what I want.' He asked if I was going to college. I said no. Couple more back and forth things, he gives me some pamphlets, and then I told him, 'I want to feel like I'm actually capable of doing something. I want to see the world.' In all honesty, that's not a very helpful answer when you're trying to get an idea of what job you think your newest recruit would be good at.

"We took that conversation back to his booth, and he hooked me up with a station in the next town over. I went there right away, told the guys who sent me, they let me in, and the sergeant sat me down. We talked for well over an hour, trying to piece together what would be a good fit for me. Eventually, I settled on a job that absolutely no one volunteers for, that being the Vent Rats. It's funny because I can't get up and talk in front of people, but I'm OK with crawling in a confined space. I'm not claustrophobic in the slightest.

"My parents were . . . mixed at first. They weren't really sure this was a good idea, but I wasn't going to give up on this. I'd rather do this than be doing a miserable job where . . . I can't be at my best. I wanted to put both my body and my brain to work. They warmed up to it eventually, even though my grandmother, God rest her soul, said that this 'sense of adventure' was what led to my great-uncle becoming estranged from the family-that's a story I'll tell you some other day-but I promised that I wouldn't abandon anyone. Marines don't abandon anybody.

"Aside from that, they felt like I would be wasting my talents. Again, I said, 'So, I'm really smart and take tests real well. Doesn't amount to anything.' They would always be lukewarm to it, even when I arrived in Boston to be processed before they put me on a plane to Virginia, where they'd process me again, and then put me on a bus to basic. You know the drill. It's hell, but I was happy to be there, in hell, because hell pales in comparison to some of the shit I did as a Vent Rat."

Dietrich adjusted her grip on Gorman. "What's your point?"

"My point is that being considered gifted can be a double-edged sword. People develop very high expectations for you, but you might not want to do what they think you should do. But, you shouldn't feel bad about doing what you think is best for you, because it might be better than what they have in mind. Hey, I probably wouldn't have met my wife if I didn't become a Marine. I don't think you would've met such wonderful people like Wierzbowski and Crowe if you didn't do this."

Dietrich nodded. "I guess you're right."

"In your case, I think you needed someone in your life telling you that you're gifted, because you really are, in more ways than one. You're a brilliant medtech. Can your bedside manner be better? Yes, but it doesn't discount the fact that you've proven time and time again that you're spectacular, even under pressure on the field."

"I broke this mission."

"I think any of us would've broken at the sight of someone we love dearly in that situation. I'd be bawling like a baby if that was my wife." Gorman let go of Dietrich, looking her in the eye again. "Now, I think it's important that you apologize to Towers. Maybe not now, but soon. I think I should give you time to recover, and then you and Towers will sit down and talk, OK?"

Shyly, Dietrich nodded.

"I've been working with Towers for five years. She's really not bad when you get to know her. Give her a chance, and she'll be more than willing to do the same for you."

* * *

Dietrich returned to where Spunkmeyer and Ferro were waiting for her. They looked up when they saw her, and Ferro said, "How'd it go?"

"Actually . . . went better than I thought it would," Dietrich said.

"Are yous in trouble?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"No. I guess . . . he felt like I needed to talk to someone alone. I was a little afraid, but . . . he's nothing to be afraid of."

"Unless he's chewing you out for making out with your partner in the dropship," Ferro said.

"I thought it was just me he yelled at," Spunkmeyer snorted.

"No, he yelled at me, too. And then Apone yelled at me when he was done with you."

"Can you imagine how Hicks would've reacted?"

"Depends on what mood he's in. I mean, I'll bet Gorman and Apone will tell him everything when we get back to base."

"Anyway," Dietrich said over them, "everything's fine. Gorman's not punishing me, but he does want me and Towers to talk when things settle down." She took a breath. "Any news on Crowe?"

"No, nothing," Spunkmeyer replied. "How long's it been? About two hours?"

Ferro looked at her watch. "Yeah."

"Last time I had major surgery was my ankle after Cetii Epsilon Four. Again." Spunkmeyer gestured to his right boot. "All I did was sprain it a couple years before when you and I got shot down and Brazil, and then . . ."

"You ended up with a lot of stress fractures," Dietrich replied. "It's my fault. I didn't treat all of them the first time around. That's probably why you kept reinjuring it."

"Hey, I have you to thank for having me stay with you guys instead of being put in rehab for a month after the second operation."

"Still. I let those fractures heal wrong."

"Look, the only issue I'm set to have for the rest of my life is the occasional give-out. Not like I can't walk. I just have to be a little more careful. You did the best you could, Dietrich. Better than nothing at all."

Nodding, Dietrich looked up at the ceiling, wondering how she would have to wait before hearing anything about Crowe. Probably hours. A surgery like this could take more than five.

Spunkmeyer stretched and yawned, breaking the silence. "Alright, I think I'm ready to find the lounge and take a nap or something."

"Drake said the same thing. Many times." Ferro rolled her eyes.

"Drake could sleep through a tornado. He'd sleep in the middle of Times Square and not move a muscle."

"That was one thing he and Hicks had in common. Except Drake made funny noises when he slept."

Spunkmeyer laughed. "I'll bet he's making Vasquez smack him with a pillow right now!"

"You know, I think we could catch them before bed if you want to call and say hello." Ferro looked at Dietrich. "What do you think?"

"Um . . . I guess." Dietrich nervously rubbed her arm. "It'd be nice to see them."

"Right. I'll go get the signal up." Spunkmeyer stood up, patting Ferro's shoulder and kissing her cheek.

Although she was hesitant, Dietrich followed the two back into the comm room. She didn't think Drake would be dwelling on all the times she insulted him, and as much as she wanted to apologize, she didn't think now was the right time. That would be something she'd do with him alone.

While waiting, Dietrich noticed Frost peering into the room, and he gestured to her. "Hey, Dietrich. You busy?"

"Not really. Why?" Dietrich asked.

"I got news . . . about Crowe."

Without hesitation, Dietrich stood up, heading out into the hall. "Good or bad."

"Just an update I got from a nurse. Surgery's been going fine. They're in his chest right now, cutting out the alien. The silver flower stuff worked; they just gotta work fast before the crap holding the embryo in place starts rotting. So far, it sounds like they'll be done in the next couple hours." Frost gave her a sympathetic look. "You doing OK?"

Dietrich nodded, rubbing her face with a shaky hand. "I'm . . . I'm glad everything's going well."

"You just wish I came to say they're done and he's in recovery."

"Yeah."

"Sorry. I know 'Ski would be doing whatever he could to make sure you were comfortable till it's over."

She nodded again. "I miss him."

"We all do. Towers isn't so bad, though." Frost gave a slight smile. "I think you'll get along. Eventually."

"Gorman said the same thing."

"Gorman's conked out in the lounge right now. He came in, sat down in front of the TV with the rest of us. Five minutes later, he was out like a light. Poor guy's exhausted."

"We all are. I just won't be able to sleep naturally until I know Crowe's OK."

* * *

_Question: How might having Hudson or Drake around effect Dietrich's situation?_


	8. Chapter 8

Dietrich went back to the comm room, taking a seat behind Spunkmeyer and Ferro when she noticed they had a signal connection with Drake and Vasquez.

"Just six more months, and you two will be bound together for life," Spunkmeyer was saying.

"We've got a place picked out for the reception, not too far from the ceremony," Drake replied. "Cute little pavilion on the Potomac. Got it reserved, provided our short guest list, and let the workers take it from there."

"How's Hudson doing?"

"He's doing great. Started taking classes for restaurant management in January."

"Tell him we wish him luck." Spunkmeyer snorted. "Didn't think he was smart enough to do college."

"You'd be surprised. He's been adapting . . . OK. Little jumpy at times. I think he'll be alright." Drake took a sip of the tea he had in front of him. "How about you? Ferro left me a message at the end of January saying you guys were going off to fight more aliens. Vasquez and I were worried."

"Everyone's alright." Spunkmeyer glanced at Ferro. "Almost everyone. Crowe got . . . Crowe got one of those spider-things on his face. He's in surgery right now."

Drake was quiet for a moment. "Jesus. I mean . . . at least . . . at least he's going to be OK, right?"

"Should be. They're claiming an injection of silver flower poison takes care of the parasite."

"So, lemme get this straight; Crowe was deliberately injected with silver flower crap to kill the parasite?"

"Yep."

"I could never go through that."

"Well, it's either that, or you die from the thing bursting out of you."

"Yeah, you got a point." Drake rubbed his face. "As long as Crowe's OK. How's everyone else?"

"Good. Bumps, bruises. Gorman almost got himself blown up, but he's OK."

"How are you liking having an officer hanging around all the time?"

"Uh, Gorman's the best." Spunkmeyer laughed. "No, seriously, he does not have a stick up his ass."

"That's probably because he was enlisted beforehand," Ferro said.

"No kidding. He was?" Drake grinned. "Nobody told me that during the briefing."

"You never asked." Spunkmeyer looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Dietrich, wanna say hi?" He reached behind Dietrich's chair, pulling her closer.

Drake had a sympathetic look on his face. "How are you, Dietrich? I'm really sorry about Crowe."

"I'm . . . doing OK." _I'm really not. I want to burst into tears and cry on someone's shoulder. _Dietrich struggled to look Drake in the eye.

"You look like you could use a hug, sister. Spunkmeyer, you gotta take care of that. I'm retired."

"No, you're not!" Vasquez called.

"Why don't you come join us, honey!"

"I'm doing the fucking dishes, dumbass!"

"OK! I love you, too!" Drake smirked, still looking in Vasquez's direction. "She just flipped me off. She loves me." He turned back to the screen. "Anyway, Dietrich, if you want to just find somewhere to stay and relax for a little while, our door's open."

"'Ski already offered," Dietrich said. "I'll take him up on it."

"That's OK. Oh, before I forget . . . Ferro, Vasquez wants you to be her maid of honor at the wedding."

"She already knows that!" Vasquez yelled from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I got the message about a week before the mission to LV-335." Ferro grinned. "You feeling OK, Drake?"

Drake sneezed. "I've been getting over a cold. Go easy on me."

"You and Hudson were the biggest pains whenever you were sick," Dietrich said. "Hudson always missed the bucket when he had to puke. You just acted grouchy the whole time. At least I had 'Ski helping me the last few years."

"And now you're on your own with no Wierzbowski, and no me and Hudson. Plus, you're dating Crowe. Aren't you much happier?"

"I . . . would be if I wasn't worried about him right now."

"I know, I know. Everything will be alright in the end. In a few months, you'll all come up to D.C., enjoy the wedding, don't worry about a thing."

"Did you figure out a honeymoon spot?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"Yes. We're going to Liechtenstein. Rented a lovely cabin overlooking a mountain village. Has all the commodities so I don't have to pee in an outhouse when it's minus-thirty at night."

"That was the most important thing on his list," Vasquez added.

"Hey, peanut gallery, why don't you join us if you have so much to say?"

Vasquez grabbed a chair from the dining room, sitting next to Drake and resting her head on his shoulders. "Asshole."

"I'm your favorite asshole." Drake kissed Vasquez's forehead. "You wouldn't want to marry anyone else."

"We dated for such a long time, we're practically married already."

"Hudson has said we act like an old married couple sometimes. We already went through all the phases they talk about in the books. All we're doing is putting rings on and my last name onto yours."

"Yeah." Vasquez draped her arm over Drake's shoulder.

Dietrich felt somewhat exhausted just watching other people being happy. It made her miss Crowe more and more.

Spunkmeyer and Ferro seemed happy sitting there and talking with Drake and Vasquez. Silently, Dietrich stood up. _I need to go sit somewhere quiet._

It was very cold when she stepped out into the hallway, and she remembered she had left her jacket in her locker on the _Sulaco_. The transport was still docked.

Of course, she couldn't go without an escort. Walking down to the lounge, she spotted the others gathered a console, playing video games. Gorman was asleep on the couch, and Towers had put a dollop of whipped cream in both his hands. She smirked before poking his face.

_This is what she does to amuse herself. Why should I give her a second chance? I should just stay out of the way. I don't want to become a target for pranks again. _Dietrich didn't feel like bothering the guys. As she approached Gorman, he awoke with a start, putting one hand to his hand.

"Dammit, Towers." He looked at the mess of whipped cream. "Where did you get that?"

"Candy store," Towers said.

"Yeah. You're supposed to put that on hot chocolate and pies, not superior officers. God, I probably won't get any sleep until I go home." Gorman sat up, but didn't hesitate to lick away the rest of the whipped cream.

Dietrich sighed. "Sir, I need an escort back to the _Sulaco_."

"What for?" Gorman asked.

"I . . . left my jacket in my locker."

"Let me wash my hands and then I'll go with you."

* * *

All the lights were on, but the airlock and interior of the massive transport were dead silent as Dietrich and Gorman walked in.

"Haven't heard anything on Crowe. I fell asleep almost as soon as I left you," Gorman said.

"I know. Frost . . . Frost told me everything's been going OK," Dietrich replied. "I'm just looking for things to keep my mind occupied."

"Well, I've got something that might help . . . ever play chess?"

"A little."

"Alright. I'll go easy on you, then."

After Dietrich got her coat, she followed Gorman back out to the lounge. He took a well-used chess set out of a container under a table, then led her across the hall to the officers' lounge. No one was in there. Turning the lights on, Gorman set the board on a table before going right to the coffeemaker. "If I'm going to be kept up until we can go home, I'm going to need a shit-ton of caffeine," he said.

Dietrich began setting up the board. "I thought I wasn't allowed in here."

"Why?"

"Because this is the officer's lounge."

"You're with me. No worries." Gorman opened the coffeemaker, adding grounds to the filter. "Would you like any?"

"Sure. I'll be awake for awhile, too. I . . . told Frost that I won't be able to rest until I know Crowe's in recovery."

"That's OK. The others will be heading to their rooms in an hour or so for bed. If you want, I'll stay up with you if we don't hear anything by then."

Dietrich nodded. "I appreciate that. All I want . . ." She covered her face, cursing herself for the choking sensation of tears she was feeling in her throat. "I just want . . . someone who's going to stay with me the whole time. Spunkmeyer and Ferro seemed like they were going to be that, and then they got caught up in talking to Drake and Vasquez, and I . . . I . . . I wasn't in the mood to keep up the conversation."

"All you had to do was say so, and I'll stay with you until you feel better." Gorman opened the fridge. "Any preferred flavor for your coffee?"

"What do they have?"

"Hazelnut, white chocolate raspberry, mocha, French vanilla, Irish crème, Southern butter pecan . . ."

"I'll have the white chocolate raspberry."

"OK. And Irish crème for me." Gorman looked over his shoulder at Dietrich. "The officers' lounge is always stocked with goodies. Don't tell any other enlisted Marine about this."

"I won't."

"Alright. On today's menu, we have . . . two boxes of fancy chocolates, a very cold box of graham crackers-don't know why that's in there-a big box of chicken alfredo to put in the microwave, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, hot fudge, caramel sauce, carrot sticks, a bottle of ranch dressing, eggnog, fried chicken pieces, a cheese and meat snack platter, and . . . a jar of caramel cereal mixed with pecans."

"I haven't felt like eating since we came back."

"You should have something. I'm going to heat up that pasta."

Dietrich stared down at the chessboard while Gorman made his dinner and poured the coffee. _He's right. I should have something to eat. Anything. You know what . . . I'll have that ice cream. _Standing up, Dietrich opened the freezer to take out the ice cream. After scooping some in a bowl, she added the hot fudge and a bit of the caramel sauce.

The two sat back down with their food and drink, taking a moment to savor everything before getting started on the game. "Boxed pasta will always taste gourmet after the only thing you've eaten in the last month was spaceship food," Gorman said.

"Yeah." Dietrich looked at the board. "Who goes first?"

"Whoever's got the white pieces, which would be you. You know the basic rules, right?"

Dietrich nodded. "Get the king to win."

"Yep. Or, put the other player's king in danger, so there are no moves left to make."

"'Ski and I played together once. He was pretty good. Me . . . not so much."

"Chess is a strategic game. You are a very, very intelligent lady, but that doesn't necessarily mean you have a gift for strategy."

"You're probably right."

Gorman smirked. "You're supposed to say 'challenge accepted,' but, your call."

Barely a word was said during the match, though one of the boxes of chocolates had appeared on the table between them at some point. Gorman downed a second cup of coffee, and glanced up at the clock. "Everyone should be in their own rooms," he said, softly.

"It's been quiet," Dietrich replied.

"Yeah. You're putting up quite a fight, here. I've been struggling to find a hole in your defenses without putting my own pieces at risk." He glanced at her. "You had the first move, but I've noticed you're playing a very defensive game, a lot like your personality."

"How so?"

"As I said earlier, you don't seem to like letting people in. You also strike me as the type who . . . easily regrets making the first move, especially in social situations."

Dietrich nodded. "I never know what to say that won't sound awkward. Sometimes, I feel like I set the wrong tone, or I . . . annoy people."

"You don't like small talk, do you?"

"No."

"I don't, either."

"How did . . . you meet your wife, then? That had to have started with small talk, didn't it?"

"Well, small talk is largely unavoidable when you first meet someone. I met Lydia in May of 2172, when I was stationed in Chicago. She worked in a mall near the beaches of Lake Michigan. Very tourist-heavy area. Heavy mix of civvies and military. She was running the counter of a home goods store, and I was buying sheets because base sheets have holes and what did me in was getting a 'fresh' set for the week, only to find an old, but sizable bloodstain on it."

"Your medtech didn't give you peroxide?"

"This stain was so old that nothing could get rid of it, unless it was burned. I had been in command of several units by that point, so I had a bit more freedom when it came to my personal quarters. Anyway, I went, got new sheets. Of course, with a military base, you can only have white sheets and pillowcases, and an olive blanket, so, I bring these up to the cashier, and when I looked up from my stuff, I couldn't speak because I saw two very pretty blue eyes, and then I kept stumbling over my words, dropped my money on the counter, then my change spilled all over the floor. Somehow, I managed to ask, 'Would you like to meet me for coffee?' She said yes, and the rest is history."

"How long did it take you to get past small talk with her?"

"Probably five minutes. That's really easy when you're military. That, and she is related to the late General Paulson. I actually didn't know that until I met her family a couple months later, which is funny because the way she talked to me gave me the impression that she had been around the Marines before. That just made me like her more, because I felt like she understood me and wouldn't be . . . upset whenever I had to go away for long periods of time."

"Was it nerve-wracking, meeting her family?"

"Always is. Now, technically, she's not related to Paulson by blood. She's from his wife's family, but she got along great with him and his son. Very welcoming of them. It would've been a lot more terrifying if I had to introduce myself to him in a non-military setting, because I was still enlisted at the time, and here I am, dating the niece of an extremely prolific general. That's some very high standards you'd have to live up to, because one false move, and he will make sure you pay dearly. Then again, from what I've heard about Paulson, he was a gentleman with everyone. It's . . . a shame what happened, and I wish I had known him." Gorman sighed. "Anyway, Lydia's family and my family . . . make for interesting Thanksgivings. It's usually my parents, and my grandmother was there before she passed away in . . . 2175. Yeah, then it was always just my parents over for Thanksgiving. Lydia brought her parents, her brother and sister, their kids, and once in awhile, her aunt Julia-Paulson's widow-and it's . . . it's just chaotic. The only one of them I truly look forward to seeing is her niece, Olivia, because she's also my niece now, and she loves me more than any of her other uncles. She wants to sit on my lap while I dangle a cat toy in front of Pixie and she laughs every single time the cat jumps and rolls over.

"That's just Thanksgiving, though. A few years ago, I sat down with Lydia and said, 'Look, I'm OK with having your family over for Thanksgiving, but . . . by Christmas, I'm still exhausted. Can we do Christmas by ourselves?' Without any argument, she said we could, and it's been that way ever since. The biggest issue I have with her family is that her parents just show up whenever they damn well please when she tells them I'm home for a couple of days, but I just want to rest. I don't want to entertain, and I beg her, 'Please, don't tell them anything!' Even when she doesn't, they still show up, and sometimes I'm the only one home, and I have to stand there and try to make conversation, because, here's the thing, they don't seem to give a flying fart about my work, like it's as mundane as checking out groceries. Even after I made officer, they just said, 'That's nice,' and my mother-in-law decided the next best conversation topic was asking what kind of toilet paper we're using."

Dietrich took a sip of her coffee. "That's . . . awful."

"It's not the worst. I'll take being oblivious to being overly critical about everything."

"And your wife is completely OK with how you feel?"

"She wouldn't have agreed to marry me if she wasn't. Ever since Paulson died, she looked really hard for a boyfriend who'd become a good husband and get her away from home, because things just weren't the same anymore. Nothing worked out, and it was when she wasn't looking that she found the one."

"How come you're living in Chicago, then?"

"Well, she doesn't want to be too far away from family, especially her nieces and nephews. I like the location. I don't have to drive an hour to get to the airport if I'm called in, plus a base is right there. It works out. The ability to compromise in a relationship is important, but compromising your health, be it physical or mental, is never OK. Same with your partner."

Dietrich nodded. She looked at the chessboard. "I think it's your move."

"I believe it is."

* * *

The game ended with Gorman winning, and after her conversation with him, Dietrich wondered if that meant something. _He said I seem like a defensive person, and play defensively, too. Somehow, he was able to get through what I set up, both in the game . . . and myself. _Dietrich looked over at Gorman, a little stunned.

"Everything alright?" Gorman asked.

"Yeah . . . just . . . thinking."

"Are you feeling better?"

"A little. I still . . . don't want to be alone."

"That's alright. I've had enough coffee to keep me up tonight and tomorrow."

"I want to try to sleep, but . . . I know if I lay down and get comfortable, I'll start thinking of Crowe, and then . . . I won't be able to rest."

Gorman nodded. "If they had any news, they would've sent someone to find us. Like I said earlier, I'll stay." He studied her face. "You're worried about that, aren't you? Me leaving? I promise, I won't. Even if you, by the grace of God, fall asleep, I won't leave."

Tears ran down Dietrich's face. "OK."

Gorman looked at the clock. "It's a little past twenty-two hundred." He rubbed his face. "I can't even remember when we docked. Had to be past noon."

"That would mean it's been over seven hours since they started operating."

"They did say it'd take more than five, didn't they?"

"Yeah."

"I can't imagine such an operation is simple."

"Maybe something's wrong."

Several long minutes of silence passed. Gorman let out his breath. "Let's go down to the hospital, get an update, and then . . . you can stay in my quarters."

Dietrich raised an eyebrow. "You're sure that's appropriate?"

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Hell, I don't think either of us will do any sleeping. It'll be more private and comfortable, that's all."

Nodding, Dietrich looked at the chessboard again, then back at Gorman. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. Let's get going."

* * *

Gorman and Dietrich walked side-by-side to the hospital. An enlisted Marine would have to show their pass papers to whoever asked; all Gorman had to do was show them his ranks. He walked up to a nurse near the operating labs. "I need an update on Private Crowe," he said.

The nurse glanced down at her clipboard. "They're finishing up, and getting ready for stitching. Might be in recovery before midnight. No visitors until tomorrow afternoon."

"The parasite's out?" Dietrich asked.

"Out and disposed of."

"What about the poison?"

"Antidote is being administered."

A weight lifted from Dietrich's shoulders, yet she still felt riddled with worry.

"Thank you," Gorman said. He gestured for Dietrich to follow him down to an elevator. "That's good."

"Yeah." Dietrich ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm still scared."

"That's normal. They're not even done yet."

Dietrich fell silent, but she held back her tears until reaching Gorman's quarters.

"I'm getting a shower." Gorman hang his coat on a hook. "If you need anything, holler."

Dietrich nodded. She sat, facing a window overlooking parts of Gateway, and the blue, white, and green of Earth below. Covering her face, she sobbed, feeling her emotions unraveling.

* * *

_Question: How has Gorman allowed Dietrich to feel more comfortable around him?_


	9. Chapter 9

Maybe it was the fact that she was looking into the cold blackness of space. Maybe that was why she started crying without much of a warning. After years of isolating herself, she couldn't bear the thought of being alone anymore. After years of things . . . just not going right, she was still afraid of abandonment. At the same time, she had become numb to it.

She sobbed until she felt someone put their arm around her. She turned to hug Gorman, burying her face in the soft, warm bathrobe he had just put on.

"Crowe's going to be OK," Gorman said. "You'll be able to see him tomorrow."

"They're not even done," Dietrich sobbed, muffled by the robe.

"They're really close. You heard what the nurse said. First thing in the morning, we'll go see what's going on, alright? Now, I think you should get a change of clothes, and take a shower. You'll feel better."

"I still won't be able to sleep."

"That's OK. That's perfectly OK, Dietrich. Could you look at me for a second?"

Dietrich glanced up at him.

"I'm . . . I wish I had something better to say about all this. I know saying that Crowe's going to be alright isn't very helpful. I could sit here all night with you, but that . . . that probably won't change the fact that the only thing that'll help you rest is seeing him in person. I'm not dodging anything or ignoring you. There's just nothing else I can do, and I'm so, so sorry."

"I know." Dietrich rested her head on Gorman's chest, her tears dripping in the robe. "That's why I don't like asking for help sometimes, because . . . sometimes I don't know how, or I'm afraid people will think I'm tougher than this and that I really don't need help, or I make things sound more complicated than they really are."

"I think that's something we've all felt at some point or another."

"What?"

"Not knowing how to ask for help. Sometimes, you just need to say it, and to hell with anyone who says you don't need it. It takes a tough person to ask, which you are, and you have been since you decided enlistment was the best path for you."

Dietrich was quiet for a moment. "I just wish I had a better way to say I appreciate what you've done today."

"Just saying it is OK." Gorman rubbed her back and patted her shoulder. "Now, go take a hot shower. I can't promise it'll do wonders, but it'll help you relax a little."

* * *

Dietrich left the small bathroom thirty minutes later to find Gorman sitting cross-legged on the bed with a folder of documents. She sat by the window, a part of her not thinking it was OK to sit on the bed with him. They weren't romantic partners. After all, he was married, and perfectly happy with his wife. Dietrich had already considered ruining someone else's happiness with their partner. There was no act more horrid.

At least with Gorman, she didn't feel anything the way she did for Wierzbowski. He was definitely just a friend.

Dietrich glanced over her shoulder at Gorman, and noticed he was looking at her. "What?" she said, softly.

"I was about to ask if everything was alright," Gorman replied.

"Everything's fine." Dietrich looked back out the window. "What time is it?"

"Little bit past twenty-three hundred."

Dietrich rested her forehead against the thick glass. "I wish I could sleep."

Gorman thought for a moment. "Maybe some tea or a supplement would help. I was just going to get some from the kitchenette."

"I'll give it a shot."

Sliding the papers back in the folder, Gorman got off the bed, and dropped the folder on the counter before lifting a kettle off the stove to check for water. After filling it, he set it back on the stove, turning on the burner, then opened a drawer to take out a box of teabags.

Dietrich left the couch and sat on a stool by the counter. As the water heated, she caught Gorman staring at the large vent cover on the wall at the back of the kitchenette. She remembered wanting to ask why he loved such an awful job as crawling in vents while they were on LV-335. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why . . . did you choose to become a Vent Rat?"

"Mainly for the challenge." Gorman set two mugs on the counter next to the stove. "I told you a little bit about that earlier, didn't I?"

"Yeah. I just . . . don't know why you stuck with that for so long. It sounds . . . terrifying."

"It is terrifying. I won't deny that. It is exhilarating in its own way. They train you to get you used to the confinement of a vent. It's a very long and grueling process, but . . . you get used to it, especially if the nature of it never really scared you in the first place. Some people think they can be Vent Rats, but end up quitting after a couple of sessions."

"I can imagine," Dietrich replied.

Gorman took the kettle off the burner, pouring the hot water into the two mugs. "Graduating classes of Vent Rats are pretty small. They start fairly sizable, then shrink as they go on. Regardless, they are a valuable type of Marine. You learn how to manage your breathing, how to climb, how to crawl silently, how to fight in tight spaces, set traps, mess with the enemy's equipment."

"And you loved it."

"I did. It was one of the two best choices I ever made."

"What was your second choice?"

"Marrying Lydia. When I was made an officer, it was very difficult to get used to not being able to do that anymore. The opportunity has come up where I have to dig deep into my Vent Rat training again, but . . . those opportunities are ones that you don't want to experience, because it usually means your unit is in a lot of trouble. It means your Vent Rats are dead or incapacitated." Gorman looked down at the counter, sliding a mug of tea to Dietrich. He looked deep in thought. "At least I . . . only had to do that once."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Been . . . Been two years."

Dietrich frowned. "Was this during the Cetii Epsilon Four war?"

"Before. I was part of a team sent to sabotage an enemy vessel en route to LV-510, right after my promotion. Long story short, it was a successful mission, but it wasn't exactly a simple hit-and-run. Half the Marines sent on board died, including the Vent Rats, and I was . . . the only one left with any experience doing that sort of thing. I had to do it, or else the mission would be a failure."

Dietrich studied Gorman's face for a moment. "Drake had the same look in his eyes when he started thinking about what happened to him on Gateway. He kinda . . . drifted off and . . . lost focus on everything."

"It's been awhile since I really thought about that mission. The only person I'll talk about it with is Towers, because she was there, too. She was on the mission in Antarctica where . . . I got my merit-based commission, which . . . probably wouldn't have happened if the CO . . . hadn't been killed."

"Do you feel responsible for that?"

"No, but at the same time, I wish I had been able to do something to prevent it from happening. He told me to go when hostiles blew up their own hideout, and . . . then everything collapsed, and he was crushed by a chunk of ice the size of a passenger jet. To this day, I still see the bright-red of the blood against the bluish-white of the ice whenever I have a bad dream. I don't . . . regret becoming an officer-well, a part of me does, because it took away being a Vent Rat, but . . . overall, I don't regret it."

"It just sounds like you wish things had gone differently. I get that. I wish I hadn't been . . . so shy when I first joined this unit." She looked at Gorman, afraid he wasn't going to listen, but she noticed the look in his eyes had changed, with his attention fully on her. "Has . . . anyone told you about what happened with me and Wierzbowski before I started dating Crowe?"

"No."

"OK." Dietrich looked down at her mug. "Well, a few years back . . . Wierzbowski decided to get some additional first-aid training from me, partly because he was interested, and partly because he'd seen I was alone a lot, and felt I needed a friend. He wasn't wrong, but I wasn't . . . really ready to accept it. When he showed he really cared, I found myself enjoying his company more and more. Even though he was dating his future wife at the time, I . . . started falling in love. I didn't know what to do about it. The worst part was that . . . it felt good, and I wanted more of it, but I couldn't because he already had someone he was really happy with. There was absolutely nothing that could take them apart. I just . . . had to sit and watch and not be sure about what to do with these feelings. I knew I'd have to tell him. I just didn't know when.

"When . . . 'Ski got engaged, he really didn't tell anyone, other than Drake, I think. I was angry and sad at the same thing. I thought for sure that he'd at least tell me that he was planning on getting engaged if we were good friends. So, he announced his engagement in the mess hall, and I realized it was over. I was never going to get what I wanted out of him, and I had to tell him how I felt, even though I knew it was going to . . . make everything awkward and complicated, and I didn't want that, but I had to. I told him, and . . . he wasn't mad, but he wasn't sure what to do, so we didn't talk for a little while. We just needed to think. He certainly wasn't about to end it with his wife, but he also didn't want to damage our friendship.

"We eventually spoke again, sometime before the wedding. 'Ski told me that we could still be friends, that won't change, but . . . he was going to help me find more friends, because me being so attached to him wasn't healthy. I agreed, if only to make him happy. I was terrified. I don't make friends easily. There was also the fact that . . . I hadn't gotten over him. I still wanted a romantic relationship that I knew I couldn't have, ever. I still had dreams. I felt . . . hopeless . . . all the time, and I figured this was how the rest of my life was going to go."

"I'm really sorry that all happened," Gorman said. "Now, I'm happy Wierzbowski has someone that he wants to spend the rest of his life with, but I'm sorry you had to experience all that you did."

"It's . . . It's OK. It's not as bad as what you went through."

"I wouldn't say that. Do we both have what we wanted now? Yes. I'm advancing in rank. You have Crowe. Do we wish things had gone a different way? Yes. It's the same in that regard."

Dietrich nodded. She was silent for a minute, looking down at her tea, still warm in the mug against her hands. "Thanks for listening, and not . . . thinking I'm a terrible person for what I felt."

"No problem. I don't think you're a terrible person for that. It's not like you actually tried to sabotage Wierzbowski's relationship. You suffered in silence for awhile, and I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It's mostly over now. After what happened with Crowe . . . I can't think of what I'll do without him. I'm so tired of being alone."

"Well, at least we know he's going to be alright. I think you two will have the chance to spend the rest of your lives together. And before you say I didn't, yes, I have seen you two cuddled up in the lounge, holding hands. Are you . . . ashamed of something? Is there a reason you don't like being openly affectionate?"

"I don't want to look like Spunkmeyer and Ferro, for one thing. The other . . . I just don't want a lot of attention on me. That's all."

"Ah. That's understandable." Gorman glanced at the clock again. "Almost midnight." He sighed. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"Think you can try sleeping?"

Dietrich nodded.

"Alright. Couch is yours. I'll grab some blankets for you."

Setting her empty cup in the sink, Dietrich went back over to the couch by the window, watching Gorman pull spare blankets out of a closet. He tossed a couple of pillows from his bed to her, then pulled back the covers to flop down on the mattress. He seemed dead almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Dietrich lay still, curled up under the blankets as silence covered the apartment. She faced the window, looking out at the other towers of Gateway. Like city skyscrapers, they were dotted with lit and unlit windows. She watched some windows go dark. Below, she noticed the whole of North America was dark, save for clusters of light coming from the cities. She had an idea of where Washington was down there, and she waved. "Good night, 'Ski," she whispered.

Just as she felt like she would finally drop off, she heard Gorman start snoring. Giving an annoyed sigh, Dietrich walked over to him, and adjusted his head, closing his mouth in the process. She lay back down on the couch, only for Gorman to start snoring again.

* * *

Dietrich awoke to see more of the Gateway towers lit up, and the lights on Earth below had faded as it rotated away from the darkness. She sat up and stretched, adjusting the T-shirt under her robe before turning to see Gorman pulling up his pants in front of a mirror.

"Good morning," Gorman said, taking his belt from the edge of the bed. "How'd you sleep?"

"Dreamless," Dietrich replied. "Better than nightmares."

Gorman nodded. "I guess you could say that." He resumed looking in the mirror. "I think it'll be two or three days before they let Crowe go."

"It'll feel like two or three weeks." Dietrich took her clothes from the floor, then paused in front of the bathroom door. "Do you need to go in here for anything?"

"Not quite. Get dressed, and then I'll shave."

They left the apartment a half-hour later. Gorman shoved the folder he was reading last night into a mail slot on the door of someone's office, then led Dietrich down the food courts for breakfast. The cafés were busiest at that hour, with civilians and military alike filling the lines.

Dietrich spotted Spunkmeyer and Ferro standing side-by-side in a line, and then caught Spunkmeyer looking in her direction. "Dietrich! Where were you last night? We were gonna invite yous to hang out with us at the ice cream parlor and we couldn't find yous."

Her first reaction was to look down and not respond. _Did you actually want me to hang out with you? You weren't acting like it yesterday._

"She was with me," Gorman answered.

"Doing what?" a voice behind them said.

Dietrich and Gorman turned around to see Towers approaching them. "Doing none of your business," Gorman replied.

"Did you tell her how silly it was to get upset over me asking Aokawa if he was OK?" Towers switched her gaze from Gorman to Dietrich.

"We talked about that. When we get back to base, you both will sit down and talk. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't give me that look, missy."

"Are you going to be with us today? The guys want to play volleyball in the gym and I need another player on my team."

"When I get more information about Crowe, I'll join you. Until then, I'm staying with Dietrich."

"Fine." Towers began wandering down to one of the cafés at the end of the court.

Dietrich looked up at Gorman. "You don't have to-"

"I made a promise, and I'm keeping it," Gorman said. "I won't leave your side until you're reunited with Crowe."

* * *

The two were able to sit by themselves with their coffee and breakfasts until Spunkmeyer and Ferro joined them. "So, what happened last night?" Spunkmeyer asked.

"Like I said to Towers, it's nobody's business," Gorman replied. "Dietrich needed someone to talk to, that's all."

"You didn't go to your quarters, I noticed," Ferro said, a look of concern in her eyes. "I went to see if everything was OK."

"I . . . stayed with Gorman," Dietrich whispered.

"Hopefully not in the same bed," Spunkmeyer snorted.

"God, no." Dietrich sighed. "By the way, you snore. I don't know how your wife puts up with that."

"She's never complained about it," Gorman said, "and that's all that mattered."

"Drake and Hudson were much worse when it came to snoring," Spunkmeyer said with a grin. He giggled. "Sometimes, when Drake was all cozy in his bunk, you'd hear this odd purring sound, and then he'd stretch and give the most contented sigh you'd ever hear."

"Hudson just snored and farted. Sometimes both at once," Ferro added.

"Walking into the men's room after him was a real fucking treat," Gorman muttered.

"Try dealing with all of his bullshit for ten years." Dietrich shook her head.

"Everyone suffered when he had the dreaded gastrointestinal flu in 2177," Spunkmeyer said. "Not a soul on base slept for a week."

"Drake's reaction to waking up, going out in the hall, and seeing Hudson puked on the floor was priceless, though." Ferro laughed. "He looked down, shrugged, and stepped over it like it was just water or something!"

"Can't believe he's getting married." A big smile spread across Spunkmeyer's face. "And I'm one of the groomsmen!"

"Hey, I'm Vasquez's maid of honor."

"Yeah, and Hudson's the best man. We are a small, but gloriously dysfunctional wedding party."

Gorman leaned over to whisper. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure," Ferro said.

"My wife and I are getting them the most important gift you should give a newly married couple."

"Lingerie?" Spunkmeyer laughed until Ferro elbowed him in the ribs.

"Uh, no. That's a terrible gift. It's a handmade sign with a set of 'rules.' Things like, 'laugh often,' 'always listen,' and my personal favorite, 'always kiss me goodnight.'"

"That sounds sweet," Dietrich said.

"My parents gave us something similar for my wedding. It seems novelty, but it's very useful, in my opinion."

Ferro gave Spunkmeyer a look when he looked down and blushed. "You got a Drake a package of underwear, didn't you?!"

"I'll take it back and get something better, I swear." Spunkmeyer covered his face.

As the group continued to talk and eat their breakfasts, Frost jogged over to them. "Dietrich, I got news!"

Dietrich looked up at him, unsure of whether to feel hopeful or fearful.

"Crowe's awake. He's been asking the nurses all morning for you. They said you could see him."

* * *

_Question: How would things be different for Dietrich if Gorman had been present in the unit since she joined?_


	10. Chapter 10

Dietrich didn't hesitate to drop her breakfast and grab Gorman by the arm to drag him to the hospital.

"Slow down, Dietrich," Gorman said. "Crowe's not going anywhere."

"I want all the time I can!" Dietrich turned to Gorman, giving him a sad look.

"Oh, alright. Let me take my coffee, please."

Dietrich was unable to stand still as she waited for Gorman to take a large bite of his sandwich before grabbing his coffee. "Come on!"

"I'm hungry!" He glared at her, his mouth full. "Relax, I'm almost done."

"The doctors might throw us out after a certain amount of time! I want to spend as much time as I-No, sir! Last bite, last bite! Come on!" Dietrich pulled part of the sandwich from Gorman's mouth, ignoring the sausage grease dripping down her fingers. She quickly wiped them with a napkin, and pulled Gorman away from the table. "Let's go!"

Spunkmeyer looked at the last bite of breakfast sandwich on the tray, then turned to Ferro. "You know, he coulda finished that in half-a-second the way he was cramming it in his mouth."

* * *

Running down the hall with Gorman in tow, Dietrich could hardly contain her excitement to see Crowe again. She thought her heart would pound right out of her ribcage as she jogged up to one of the front desks. "Ma'am, I'm here to see-"

"Do you have a pass from your commanding officer?" the receptionist asked without looking up.

"I'm her commanding officer," Gorman said.

The receptionist glanced up, seeing the glint of Gorman's lieutenant's bar on his cap. "Who are you here to see?"

"Private Crowe," Dietrich said.

"I'm asking him, not you."

Gorman gave the receptionist a hard look. "Don't you ever speak to my Marines like that again, or I will lodge a complaint to your superior and that pen up your nose. Now, she's here to see Private Crowe. Could you kindly tell us where his room is?"

"Room one-forty-six B."

Dietrich struggled to hide the fact that she was shaking as she and Gorman headed down the maze of hallways to get to the recovery wing and Crowe's room. She knew she couldn't be rough with him, but she wanted to hold him again. She wanted him to hold her again.

"I'll be by the door," Gorman said, turning the doorknob. "Just remember to be gentle with him. He just had a thoracotomy."

"I know." Dietrich held her breath when she stepped in the room. Every weight lifted from her shoulders, and she smiled when she saw Crowe laying awake in a bed.

"Birdie," Crowe said, opening his arms.

It was a blissful feeling. As gently as she could, Dietrich hugged him, tears running down her face. She kissed him and nuzzled his forehead. "I love you," she breathed.

"I love you, too." Crowe kissed her cheek.

"I was so worried yesterday." Dietrich sobbed. "I wish I'd been in there with you."

"I think it was a good thing you weren't, birdie. Not saying this to be mean, just saying it because of what I've experienced with you; your emotions would've hindered your ability to work."

"Not in the operating room. Never in the operating room. I did surgery on Wierzbowski once and I was fine. My work is where I'm most focused." Tears continued to choke her. "Crowe . . . there's . . . something I should tell you, but . . . I think it should wait till we're home."

"No, no, you can tell me now. What is it?" Through the tiredness, Crowe gave her a look of concern.

"Can you promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Promise."

Dietrich looked over her shoulder at Gorman. He was leaning against the wall, looking deep in thought. Despite her bad dreams from cryo, she felt like she could trust him. She stroked Crowe's hair. "I . . ." Anxiously, she found herself gripping the back of Crowe's head. "I suffer from Asperger's. The only person I've ever told is 'Ski, and . . . I know I should've told you sooner, but . . . the thing is, I was diagnosed as a kid, and if Command ever found out I lied on my medical history . . . I'd get in a lot of trouble."

"Well, I can't imagine it's easy for you to talk about, even with someone you care about. It's alright you waited. I don't want you to feel forced to talk about something you're not ready to. No matter what, when you're ready, I'm here to listen."

Dietrich rested her head on Crowe's shoulder. "I just want to hug you forever."

"I'd hug you forever if the nurses didn't go ballistic over it. We'll be able to do this when we go home, I promise." Crowe kissed her cheek. "I love you, birdie."

Dietrich wanted to hug him tighter. She did, slowly, and let him go when she heard him grunt in pain. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright. I'll be sensitive for awhile, that's for sure." Crowe smiled at her. "We'll see each other again soon. I'll request for you as often as I can."

"Do you know how long you're going to be here?"

"I heard someone say two days. They want to make sure everything's healing alright, and that I'm responding to the antidote well. I've been puking silver, which is a good sign."

Dietrich kissed Crowe's forehead. "As long as everything's going OK."

She then heard Gorman hiss behind her, "Nurse coming. Get off him."

* * *

As much as Dietrich didn't want to leave Crowe, she also didn't want to get into an argument with a nurse. She left the hospital with Gorman, who was quiet as they walked.

For a moment, Dietrich was afraid. _Did I make a mistake telling Crowe about what's wrong with me in front of Gorman? Is he thinking about reporting me?_

Gorman turned toward the apartments, gesturing for Dietrich to follow. "I need to speak to you in private."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"We will discuss it in private."

Dietrich held her breath until they were inside the apartment. She sat on the couch, flooded with shame and a desire to cry.

Gorman dragged over a chair, sitting across from Dietrich. "This conversation is not going to leave this apartment, do you understand?"

Dietrich nodded.

"First things first, Dietrich . . . I'm not going to report you."

Another weight lifted from her shoulders. Dietrich leaned over to hug Gorman. "Why not?" she whispered.

"Because I've seen you work, on and off the field. Like I've said many times before, you really are a brilliant medtech. That . . . and I've suspected it for a few months. It's not difficult to see sometimes, especially in the way you've interacted with me."

"I was scared you'd find out. I . . . even had nightmares about it."

"Well, we're turning over a new leaf, I guess." Gorman rubbed Dietrich's back reassuringly. "I promise, I won't tell anyone. I will help you if you need anything, OK?"

Again, Dietrich nodded.

"Alright." Gorman let go of her. "Would you like me to stay, or . . . will you be alright on your own?"

"I think I'll be alright," Dietrich said. "I know I've been . . . holding you back from-"

"No. You haven't been holding me back from anything. I consider this to be part of my job, and a very important part at that. Your physical and emotional well-being is just as important as your ability to perform in combat. Being a Marine is no easy task. You're away from home for long stretches of time. You're stuck on base for long stretches of time. You've seen things not many people have seen, or want to see. It's a hard life, but you chose it anyway. I don't want you to 'just deal with it.' I want you to ask for help. When you become a civilian again, I don't want you to feel detached from society. I want you to feel comfortable talking to others. I want you to feel like you can succeed at anything you want to do when you leave the military, and rejoin civilian life." Gorman gave her a smile. "Don't feel like you're holding me back from anything."

Another nod. Dietrich took a breath. "Thanks, Gorman."

* * *

Dietrich occupied herself for the rest of the day by calling Wierzbowski and spending time with the others in the enlisted lounge. It was certainly a relief to know Crowe was alive and recovering well, but she still felt rattled, in shock.

At night, she again slept in Gorman's apartment, not wanting to be alone. Not out of worry, but because she wanted someone there in case she had a nightmare. Her exhaustion from the last few days overpowered her anxiety, and she fell into a deep sleep rather quickly.

However, she awoke to the obnoxious voice of a lady in a late-night infomercial; Gorman had fallen asleep with the TV on, and whatever program he had been watching was long over. Sighing, Dietrich wrapped herself in a blanket as she stood up, grabbing the remote from Gorman's nightstand and shutting the TV off. Silence enveloped the apartment.

Dietrich hated the silence, and she didn't want the only noise to be Gorman's snoring. After getting a drink of water, she searched around for a source of white noise, like a fan. She jolted when she heard Gorman groan as he shifted positions in bed. Looking over her shoulder, she waited for him to lay still, then resumed searching for that fan.

Finally, she found a box fan in a closet by the kitchenette. The fan hadn't been used in awhile, and was covered in dust. Dietrich ran a damp paper towel over it, then found a place to plug it in and point it away from her and Gorman, toward the kitchenette. She set the fan to a low setting, and a gentle noise filled the apartment.

Dietrich looked over at Gorman, wondering if the noise woke him up. He was laying on his stomach, face planted in a pillow, and dead to the world. The fan hadn't bothered him in the slightest.

Returning to the couch, Dietrich curled up under the blankets and faced the window. She then decided she didn't want to face the darkness of space, and turned toward the apartment. She watched and listened to Gorman breathe. She could remember listening to Crowe's breathing and heartbeat when they snuggled together at night. As strange as it sounded, she planned on nestling as close to Crowe's chest as possible, to listen to his heart, to reassure herself that he was alive and well.

That thought helped her drift off for the rest of the night.

* * *

She awoke the next morning to hear Gorman yelling at someone out in the hallway. Sitting up, she saw he had a towel wrapped around his waist.

". . . You give me my clothes back right now, young lady! That wasn't funny! Get over here!"

A second later, Towers walked over, holding Gorman's shirt and pants. "Your reaction was funny, sir."

"Listen, I don't care when you do shit like this on base, but never on Gateway. You think I want other military personnel here seeing me naked? No!"

"I think the majority of officers would be jealous of your physique."

"Well, let's not find out what they think, now shoo!"

Dietrich gave Gorman a look when he shut the door behind him. "You let her pull pranks on you?"

"It's been that way for the last five years. It's also a long story." Gorman disappeared into the bathroom.

_If they're such good friends, I really hope it doesn't put a strain on him if Towers and I don't get along. _Dietrich sat on the edge of the bed, tying her boots.

Gorman left the bathroom, sighing as he pulled his belt through the loops on his pants. "Ready?"

"For what?" Dietrich asked.

"To go have breakfast."

"We can't see Crowe first?"

"Visiting hours don't start until nine. And I don't want you taking food out of my hands ever again."

"OK, Hudson."

* * *

_Just one more night, and then we're all going home._ Dietrich sat in front of one of the screens in the comms room. Wierzbowski had told her earlier that he was visiting Drake in the evening, so she had to use Drake's number if she wanted to reach him.

The room was silent. Everyone was down in the lounge, winding down for the night. Dietrich ran her fingers through her hair while she waited for the signals to connect, then folded her arms on the table when everything was connected.

Of course, this meant she had to talk to Drake first. He sat in front of his screen, holding a glass of whiskey and a plate with a half-eaten slice of cake on it. "Hey, Dietrich," he said. "Looking for Wierzbowski?"

"Yeah," Dietrich replied.

"He's helping Vasquez with something. Should be a few minutes. Is it something important?"

"Not . . . really. We should be returning to base tomorrow."

"Good. We miss you down here. I heard Crowe's been doing alright."

"He's healing well. His body's been ridding itself of the poison at a good pace."

"What about . . . psychologically?"

"He's always very happy to see me. I haven't . . . I haven't gotten the impression that anything's wrong."

"It might be a little while for any signs of trauma to show up. Even without the silver flower involved, he has the knowledge that a fucking alien parasite was growing inside of him, while it was still in. I think when he feels better and starts to process what happened, you need to keep an eye out for certain symptoms, and contact Ranelli ASAP. The sooner you can deal with this, the less Crowe will suffer." Drake raised his hands. "Just speaking from experience."

"I-I know." Dietrich took a breath. "What . . . What do I have to look for?"

"Frequent nightmares with similar, you know, thematic elements. Becoming emotionally distant. Flashbacks are the big one. Inability to sleep." Drake took a sip of his drink. "I think Crowe's got the sense to talk to you when something's wrong. He's not like me in the slightest."

Dietrich nodded.

"He might not develop any problems, but . . . I'm just saying to be aware of it. It's very likely, and I don't want you to feel like you have to deal with this alone."

"Thanks, Drake." Dietrich looked down at the table and control panel. "How's . . . How's the wedding planning going?"

"So far, so good. That's actually why Wierzbowski's here; Hudson's got a night class, so he can't help at the moment. Wierzbowski's taking over just to take the pressure off Hudson."

"OK."

"Vasquez is waiting for Ferro so they can do the dress-shopping. Hudson's gonna help with my tux."

"You don't think it's too early for that?"

"We'd rather do it sooner than later, because the actual ordering and shipping of these pieces can take a few weeks."

"At least . . . it sounds like you guys haven't been arguing, like in the movies."

Drake snorted. "No. Everything's been good. No arguing. Look, if we had met outside prison and the Marines, we would've gotten married three or four years ago. We are well past when a regular couple would've done this."

"This is why everyone has said we're like an old married couple," Vasquez said in the background.

"I thought it was just Hudson who said that. Did you free up Wierzbowski?"

"He's been free for the last five minutes."

"Could you send him in? Dietrich wants to talk to him."

A few seconds later, Wierzbowski entered the room. "You know, I had a feeling she was going to call when I told her that she would have to call you in order to reach me."

"Well, here she is." Drake stood up. "Have fun, guys."

Dietrich remained silent for a minute.

"Is . . . everything alright?" Wierzbowski asked.

"Yeah. I . . . I told Gorman everything. You know, about our past, and what I have."

"Really? A month ago, you said you were scared of him."

"I was. Things changed a little over the last few days. I trust him."

"Good. I'm glad you're starting to open up to other people. How's Crowe been doing?"

"Getting better each day. We should be heading back to base tomorrow."

"Even better. Make sure you come visit, alright?"

"I'll try. Gorman still wants me to sit down and talk to Towers over what happened. Did you know they worked together before?"

"No. She replaced me, remember?"

"Yeah . . . she's not you. She fucking amuses herself by pulling pranks on people, mainly Gorman."

"Dietrich, as long as she's not hurting anyone, it's OK. I know, she's not me. No one will ever be me. Just . . . you need to let that go. I know it's challenging, but you are getting there."

Dietrich nodded.

"Give her a chance, alright? The last thing you need to be doing is antagonizing people." Wierzbowski fell silent for a moment, then gave Dietrich a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry if that came out a bit harsh."

"No, it's OK," Dietrich said. "I think I need that sometimes."

"Well, I don't want to be too hard on you."

"Really, 'Ski, it's OK."

"Alright. I mean, I know the last few days have been rough for you. I don't think you need me being . . . insensitive, I guess." Wierzbowski sighed. "Anyway, I . . . So far, everything's been going alright with me. Coming along in training alright. I'll soon be out on the road, in an ambulance for almost the entire day, which means there'll be days where I can't talk to you or Eliza. This isn't nearly as bad as being away for months on end, but . . . I just feel bad leaving Eliza alone again after we've spent the last three months together."

"And she's OK with this?"

"Oh, absolutely. She's been very supportive this whole time. She knows this won't be as bad as when I was a Marine. We've been doing good, in terms of . . . well, everything. We're stable. I'll start pulling more money in once I graduate training. She actually told me she wouldn't mind working in Hudson's bar as a server once he gets that up and running. Plus . . . I want to see how things go in the first few months of working, and then . . . maybe, and it's a huge maybe at this point, we'll talk about whether or not we're ready for kids."

"Whatever choice you make, 'Ski, I'll . . . I'll be happy for you."

"Thanks, Dietrich." Wierzbowski looked to his left. "I better get back to Drake and Vasquez. Drake's in a very obnoxiously cuddly mood rather than a helpful one right now. I think there's a full moon out." He grinned. "I'll talk to you again, soon, Dietrich."

"I'll try and see you when we get back." Dietrich waved. "Good-night, 'Ski."

"Good-night, Dietrich."

* * *

"You're positive we're going home tomorrow?" Dietrich asked.

Gorman covered a yawn with his hand before tying the band of his robe around his waist. "I'm positive we're going home tomorrow. We should be in Virginia before evening chow."

"Yes. I'm looking forward to listening to Spunkmeyer bitch about everything again."

"Well, I'm looking forward to things going back to normal. If that includes Spunkmeyer's bitching, I'll take it."

"Good for you." Dietrich lay down on the couch, throwing a blanket over herself. "Don't leave the television on again. Don't need to wake up in the middle of the night to a thirty-minute ad on an egg peeler again."

"So, that's why I was dreaming about my wife making boiled eggs for breakfast last night."

"Yeah, if you feel yourself falling asleep, turn it off, please."

"I'll try."

Right as Dietrich was about to fall asleep, someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Gorman called.

"Major Percival, Lieutenant."

_Shit._ Dietrich got up, running into the kitchen with her blanket and pillows. Gorman gestured to her clothes on the floor, and she dashed back out to grab them before crouching behind the counter.

"Come in," Gorman said once Dietrich was hidden.

The major entered, taking off his cap. "Really sorry to be disturbing you at this time, Lieutenant, but we do need to discuss Private Crowe before sending you on your way."

"Is everything alright?"

"Medically, yes. This is about your transportation."

"Can't this be discussed in the morning?"

"No. I think it'd be best we arrange a separate shuttle to take Crowe back to his family in England. It would be a lot less stressful on him if we have him stay a few more days, then send him home for recovery."

Dietrich's heart sank. It took every ounce of strength to keep from crying at the thought of being separated from Crowe again.

"Was this at a doctor's recommendation?" Gorman asked.

"Yes," Percival replied.

Gorman sighed. "Alright. If it's . . . in the interest of his health, he can stay, take a separate shuttle home."

Percival nodded. "I'll let him know your approval. Have a good night, Lieutenant."

Once Percival left the room, Gorman said, "He's gone, Dietrich. Come on out."

Her eyes and face were red from resisting the urge to cry, and only got redder as she sobbed.

"They're doing this for his own good, OK?" Gorman sat up, opening his arms.

Dietrich couldn't figure out what to say, or how to say it. She knew it would be better for Crowe to stay longer and go right home to recover, and she felt awful for even thinking that he could come with her instead.

"You'll be with each other again soon, alright?" Gorman whispered. "I'm sorry there isn't a better way. Just relax, take a few deep breaths. Everything'll be alright."

* * *

_Question: How can Dietrich and Wierzbowski's friendship be compared to Drake and Ferro's?_

_Author's Note: I have started a big editing project with many of the earlier books in the series to fit the "Ice Star" continuity. "Boreal Nightmare" has already had its first chapter edited, and the rest should be coming shortly.  
_

_The next spinoff book will be . . . a bit different. If you enjoy Alien: Isolation, you'll probably enjoy this one. There's still more to come of "Whispered Scream," so stay tuned. - Cat._


	11. Chapter 11

Dietrich cried herself to sleep, but awoke the next morning feeling like she hadn't slept at all. Sitting up on the couch, she rubbed her eyes, finding them itchy and full of grit. It took her a moment to remember what had happened. _The major came in and said Crowe has to stay longer, and then he's taking a separate shuttle home. He's not going with us. _Dietrich took a breath, staring at the floor. _I must've sobbed myself exhausted on Gorman._

She looked up when she heard someone leaving the bathroom, and watched Gorman stand in front of the mirror, adjusting his uniform. "Last night wasn't a dream, was it?" Dietrich asked.

"Regarding what?" Gorman said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"Crowe. Is he really staying behind?"

"I'm afraid so." Gorman picked up his cap. "You'll be able to say 'so long.' Just . . . don't hang on too long, because we leave after breakfast. Make sure you have all your belongings."

After packing their duffel bags, the two headed down to the food court. The rest of the squad was already there, their duffel bags next to a table while they sat and had their breakfasts.

"Sit. I'll get you something," Gorman said. He disappeared into a crowd of people when Dietrich sat down.

The others were quiet at first. Spunkmeyer was the first to look at Dietrich, and said, "Is . . . everything OK?"

"Yeah. Why?" Dietrich asked.

"In the four days we've been here, you've spent nearly all your time with Gorman, and you've been sleeping in his apartment instead of your own. Is there . . . something going on between you two?"

"Dear God, Spunkmeyer, no!" Ferro gave him a look. "Are you blind or are you really a pervert? Crowe's been in the hospital, and Dietrich's been upset, so Gorman's keeping her company."

Dietrich nodded. "Yeah. I asked for his company. And to stay in his apartment. Grow up, Spunkmeyer."

"Look, I'm just saying, if you didn't have a unit as understanding as us, people might think you and the lieutenant are having an affair." Spunkmeyer shrugged.

"Sweetie, we're supposed to be helpful, not . . . moronic." Ferro elbowed Spunkmeyer in the ribs.

"Hey, at least it's coming from me!"

Ferro gave him a dirty look. "That doesn't make it helpful in the slightest."

Dietrich was about to say something when Gorman sat next to her. "We're boarding a shuttle in an hour," he said. "Eat, go make sure you have all your stuff."

"We did that before heading here, sir," Spunkmeyer said.

"Well, I want you to double-check, and savor the coffee, because it's gonna be base-issue coffee from here on out."

Dietrich glanced at Gorman. "How long is Crowe staying here before going home?"

"Last I heard, two days. Two days, then Command granted him recovery leave for six weeks. They want him thoroughly examined at the end of those six weeks, and then they'll determine whether he can come back, or needs more recovery time. Overall, they're not kicking him out of the Marines. Not yet anyway."

Dietrich frowned.

"Not many people can return to full service after chest surgery, especially from the type he just had. The alternative is placing him in a non-combat role, specifically in a job that won't have him exert a lot of energy. That means he wouldn't be able to be a mechanic anymore, and we'd have to get a new Marine to take his place."

"He'd be transferred?"

"Transferred or relegated to base duties." Gorman gave her a sympathetic look. "You do realize that we're not trying to keep you two apart, right? And we're not going to do anything without talking to him first."

Dietrich nodded.

"Crowe's young, though. I think he'll heal up just fine and he'll be back before you know it."

Dietrich glanced up for a split-second, and noticed the joking expression on Spunkmeyer's face had faded, replaced with concern and sorrow.

* * *

After saying her goodbyes to Crowe, Dietrich followed the rest of the unit down to the docking bays, where their shuttle was waiting. It took a lot of energy to let go of him. She never wanted to let go.

She sat by herself on the shuttle. When the pilot announced people could stand and move if they wanted to, she was joined by Gorman.

"How're you doing?" he asked.

Dietrich shrugged.

"Do you wanna talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

Gorman was silent for a moment. "Only thing I'll say is that you can't let this consume you. I know . . . people like you can get wrapped up in anxiety and worry and it's hard to break out of. You get overwhelmed easily, especially now that your primary support system is . . . out of the picture for a little while. Don't be afraid to go to someone to just talk about what's on your mind."

"That's the problem. Crowe and 'Ski are the only people who . . . actually know what's wrong with me. And now you."

"The best I can say to you is that . . . you can't let it control you. I'm not saying ignore it. You've already learned how to embrace the good of it. Time to tackle the other side."

"Can you help me?"

"I'll do what I can. You just have to be open to the idea. I'm not a therapist. I think you'd benefit more from a private session with someone who has . . . more knowledge than I do." Gorman paused, thinking. "Tell you what, I know someone that I can give a call. It'll be confidential. He won't say anything to Command. Just me. How's that?"

Dietrich nodded. "Is it Doctor Ranelli?"

"Yes."

"Alright. He worked with Drake, so I know him a little bit. I mean, I'll trust him."

"Good. I think that'll help. So, plan is, I'll send him a message, and we'll schedule a session. Do you want me with you for that first session?"

"Yeah."

"OK. I'll get on that as soon as we get home."

It was January when they left Virginia. Now, it was March, and the scenery had changed. The snow was finally melting and patches of green were appearing again. Most of the trees were still bare, while some were beginning to sprout buds.

It would take some time before anyone could really enjoy the arrival of spring. Spring was cold, and wet. A step up from winter, but was often just as miserable. Easily comparable to Dietrich. Sure, she knew Crowe was going to be OK, and he was recovering at a good pace, but she still had to wait for him. Her summer.

After landing at the spaceport, the Marines left the shuttle with their bags slung over their shoulders. Dietrich was admittedly happy to see Drake, Vasquez, Hudson, and Hudson's wife, Miranda, waiting for them, but she didn't show it on her face.

Gorman dropped his duffel bag when he saw a woman with dark, shoulder-length hair and a baggy blue sweater. He opened his arms, letting her run to him. Lydia jumped in her husband's arms, and Gorman spun her around once, holding her close. "I love you," he whispered. "Darling, I love you." He kissed Lydia's forehead. "Don't cry. I'm here."

Dietrich watched them, jealousy slowly piercing through her heart like a large needle. She watched everyone greet their friends and loved ones. Looking over at where Spunkmeyer was talking to Hudson, she noticed Hudson looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and he appeared to have lost weight since she last saw him, at his wedding in October. For her, it was strange. _The way he eats, and with the lack of an exercise routine as a civilian, you'd think he'd be a lot heavier now._

She forgot her loneliness as she disappeared into her brain. _Hudson's in college now. He probably has a lot of classes, maybe even a part-time job. He probably hasn't slept well in awhile, and if he doesn't do something about it, he's going to compromise his immune system. _Dietrich looked down at the ground. Hudson wasn't under her care anymore. His wife was a doctor. He'd probably take Miranda's advice over hers.

Someone tapped her shoulder. Dietrich turned around, and gasped when she saw Wierzbowski standing behind her, a big smile on his face. Without a second thought, Dietrich grabbed him in a hug. "'Ski!" she cried.

"Hello, Dietrich." Wierzbowski ruffled her hair, and hugged her back.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too. How are you?"

"Um . . . I don't know." Dietrich sobbed. "Crowe has to stay in the hospital longer, then they're sending him home to England to recover for a few weeks."

"Probably for the best," Wierzbowski said. "It'll be less stressful on him to just go right home instead of jumping across several timezones when he returns to Earth."

"I just wish I was with him."

"I understand. They'd probably give you that chance if you two were married. I highly suggest you wait on that, though." Wierzbowski looked down at Dietrich. "I think it'd be best you focus on something else. I don't think it'd be good for Crowe to be worrying about you if you're anxious and stressed every time you call."

Dietrich took a breath. "You're right."

"So, my offer still stands for you to come to my place for the missus to make you some tea. I think now would be a good time to talk to Gorman about it." Wierzbowski looked over at Gorman, who was locked in a passionate kiss with Lydia. "Well, we'll give him a few more minutes."

Drake strolled over to them with Hudson in tow. "Hey, Dietrich. Where's the better half?"

"That's not funny right now, Drake," Wierzbowski said, softly.

Drake's smile faded. "Oh . . . did . . . something happen?"

"Crowe's got to stay at the hospital a little longer, then they're sending him right home for recovery. They'll be apart for a little while."

"Aw, geez, I'm sorry."

Hudson opened his arms. "If you need more hugs, Dietrich, I'm open, man."

"I think we're good here," Wierzbowski said.

Hudson shrugged, and put his hands in his pockets.

_Oh, what the hell, I should tell him he doesn't look good._ Dietrich took a breath. "Hudson?"

"Yeah?"

"You . . . don't look like you've slept in awhile."

"That's because I haven't, man. Been a bit overwhelmed with college classes the last few months. Up with night classes and homework and stuff like that."

"I hope you don't start getting sick over it."

"I already have, man. Had the flu in February, while you guys were gone. I took only two days off and got seriously backlogged. Even though I still felt like crap, I went back, trying to catch up. Just . . . even if I puke the night before, I can't afford to miss anything."

"There's more than that," Drake said. "Tell her about the time you went into Marine-mode when a fire alarm went off."

"Oh, that." Hudson sighed. "That was at the end of February. I was already stressed. Just finally managed to get over the flu. I . . . was just having a hard time focusing on everything. Well, then the fire alarm goes off when I'm in a class, and suddenly, I'm shouting at people to get cover, and I panic more because I don't have any of my equipment. Campus security had to come in and get me to calm down. They took me out of the room, had me sit somewhere else to relax. They shut the alarm off, and I start coming back 'round to reality, and . . . I was really embarrassed, man. I just . . . don't know where that came from or why it happened. I'm not traumatized, but I've been in the Marines for so long that it's hard to pull myself out."

"I don't have to worry about that," Drake said. "I'm in training to be an armed courier. I don't get to play with smartguns anymore, but I can still handle lots of other guns, and I love it. Just hoping one of the big delivery companies hires me when I finish my certification."

"What's Vasquez doing?" Dietrich asked.

"Waiting tables at the restaurant down the block from us. She's waiting for Hudson to open his place so she can be a bouncer."

"I'll hire her, man. No questions asked." Hudson grinned. "It might take a few years, but we'll get there. We have a plan, and we're all in it together."

* * *

As promised, Wierzbowski took Dietrich back to D.C. for a short visit and some tea. In spite of all that happened, Dietrich could appreciate Wierzbowski's cozy hospitality. She just wished she could stay with him until Crowe came back.

She could only stay a day, then had to board a train back to base in Virginia.

When she returned to base, everything was almost exactly the same as before they went to LV-335. Aside from Crowe being absent. Upon realizing that, Dietrich wanted to hide somewhere, be alone and not face anyone until Crowe was back.

Spunkmeyer was training Marda with the powerloader in the loading bay, while Ferro observed. Frost, Caito, and Towers were in the armory, checking over everything they brought with them to LV-335. Aokawa was talking with Hicks in the lounge. Like nothing happened.

Dietrich was about to go to her bedroom to put her laundry in a basket when Gorman appeared in the doorway to his office. "Hey, I made that phone call for you."

"OK," Dietrich said, not looking at him. "Thanks."

"Everything alright?"

Dietrich nodded. "Just . . . gonna take care of my laundry."

"Sounds good. Say, when you're done, why don't you come back to my office and we'll play another game of chess?"

"I thought you were going out with your wife."

"We'll be doing that next week. I want to make sure you're going to be OK while Crowe's gone."

"Shouldn't . . . your first loyalty be to her?"

"My loyalty is with her. I also have to uphold my loyalty to my unit. It'd be selfish if I just left you, especially since I'd be there for your session with Ranelli. Don't worry about me, alright?"

Dietrich looked down at the floor, nodding. "I'll go . . . do my laundry." After separating her clothes in her bedroom, Dietrich carried the basket down to the laundry room. She almost froze when she saw Towers putting her stuff in a dryer, and looked down, trying to look busy.

"Hey. I'm sorry about Crowe."

Dietrich glanced up briefly when Towers spoke to her.

"I wasn't there, I couldn't shoot the creature before it got to him."

"I know."

"I'm pretty sure Gorman told you this already, but I don't think you can be mad at Aokawa, either. He's just as upset with himself as you are with him."

"At least Gorman took the time to listen to me," Dietrich muttered.

Towers bit her lip, looking up at the ceiling before looking at Dietrich. "I would have listened to you if you didn't start calling me a bitch. I don't think you'd appreciate that if you were in my position."

"Number one, I've been called way worse, and number two, you didn't just have the love of your life almost taken from you by a parasite!"

"That doesn't mean you can get angry at everyone who looks at you! God, you are so stubborn! Can you see past yourself and Crowe for two minutes? Is it that fucking difficult? I didn't get mad at Apone when I thought Gorman was lost in the attack on the queen!"

"That would've been Gorman's own fault! He stayed behind to make sure everyone else got out!"

"His 'fault?' Really? I've known him a lot longer than you have! He's always been like that. His Marines come first to him. He's one of the most selfless people I've had the chance to work with. Gee, maybe Crowe took the spider for Aokawa. Ever think about that? Probably not. How the fuck are you a medtech if you can't think about others for even a second?"

A desire to punch Towers manifested from a sudden, tight knotting sensation in the center of her stomach. Dietrich tossed her entire basket of laundry into one of the washing machines, slamming it shut after dumping in the detergent and fabric softener. "You're still a bitch," Dietrich snarled.

"Fuck you, too, Dietrich. You should be happy Gorman treats you good."

* * *

Dietrich slammed Gorman's office door shut, then collapsed in the chair across from his desk.

"What's the matter?" Gorman asked.

Dietrich rubbed her face. "I hope it doesn't bother you that Towers and I won't get along."

"Uh-oh. What happened?" Gorman set a chessboard on the desk, placing the pieces on while looking at Dietrich.

"I saw her in laundry. She . . . tried to apologize about Crowe, and . . . I should've just accepted it and didn't say anything else. She told me I shouldn't be mad at Aokawa, and it got out of control because I said she wasn't listening to me, and . . . I shouldn't have said that."

"Well, I did say I'd have you two sit down and talk. I think you should do that with me in the room." Gorman held out a small box to Dietrich. "Chocolate?"

Sighing, Dietrich took a few pieces of chocolate candies from the box. "I know I can be stubborn. I feel like I have to be stubborn sometimes. If I don't stand up for myself, people . . . people will take advantage of me."

"Being stubborn is a double-edged sword, like with being gifted. Why do you consider stubbornness as part of standing up for yourself?"

"There's a certain way I like things to be. A routine. If . . . I don't stick to that routine, I feel . . . I feel like there's no structure, and if I don't have structure, I feel vulnerable."

"You prefer a very clear set of rules and boundaries."

"Yeah."

"Any deviation will throw you off if you're not given prior warning."

Dietrich nodded. "I guess . . . sometimes, I'm afraid people throw me off on purpose, to get a reaction out of me, and . . . I know it's silly to think that, but . . . that's what happened in the past."

"In school, I'm guessing."

"Yeah. I was . . . not exactly popular."

Gorman smirked. "I wasn't Mr. Popular, either. A bunch of people who had seen one of my many fails at speaking in front of the class covered their faces with their papers when I walked by their table, you know, mocking what I'd done when I panicked, and they laughed about it when they thought I was out of earshot." He shrugged. "What are they doing now? I don't know, and I don't care. I'm successful and that's all that matters."

"Did you ever get over your nerves with speaking in front of people?"

"Not . . . really. I'm more comfortable speaking in front of Marines than I am in front of civilians. I think it's because in class . . . there were a lot more expectations heaped on me. With the Marines, I have one goal; communicate a message to you, whether it be briefing or instructions or whatnot. I'm not thinking about a grade, or whether I used a certain method or not, or whether someone's going to judge how I use a method. Having a single goal instead of ten at once helped me feel more comfortable speaking in front of you."

"That makes sense. With me . . . I was seen as a killjoy. I spent more time reorganizing things, like in the art classroom. Someone got the wrong hint, and while I was working on a project, they went over to the colored pencil box and messed everything up. I stayed after school for almost an hour putting everything back, because it bothered me so much."

"An inconvenience, I imagine, but, that's not the worst anyone could've done to you."

"Yeah. I . . ." Dietrich lowered her voice, "was once locked in a closet at some girl's birthday party. I can't remember why I went. I think it was one of the several times my parents wanted me to 'socialize and make friends' even though I had proved time and time again that I didn't want to."

"I was locked in a bathroom at some school party I went to. This was a few months after I decided to enlist, so I knew already I was going to be a Vent Rat. What better way to get some early training than to escape the bathroom through the vents? They were filthy and hell to crawl through, but I made it."

Dietrich smiled a little. "I admire your courage. Can't say I'd do the same thing. I screamed and cried until someone finally unlocked the door."

"I can't blame you, to be honest." Gorman looked down at the chessboard on the desk. "Your move."

* * *

The game played out similarly to the one on Gateway; Dietrich played defensively, but Gorman won after a lengthy battle.

"I think," Gorman said, eyeing Dietrich's pieces, "you need to consider a new strategy."

"I do, but I can't think of any," Dietrich replied.

"I'll teach you a couple things next time." Gorman looked at his watch. "I've left everyone alone too long. I better go make sure no one's tied anyone to the ceiling fan again."

Dietrich stood up. "I'll . . . go take care of my laundry." She and Gorman went separate ways, and she started to think she would be able to deal with Crowe's absence. It would be hard, but Gorman was making it easier.

She went into the laundry room to find that someone had taken her laundry out of the washer, and began checking the dryers. Sure enough, she found her clothes, and began pulling them out to fold in the basket.

A bright color caught her eye. Frowning, Dietrich pulled out one of her T-shirts to reveal it was covered with melted crayon wax. "What the fuck . . . ?" she whispered.

It wasn't just the shirt. Everything was covered. Someone put crayons in the dryer with her clothes. Dietrich knelt by her basket, and sobbed. _Everything's ruined! Who did this?!_

Dropping her clothes, Dietrich ran from the laundry room, finding Gorman in the lounge. "Sir, you need to come see this." She tried keeping her face expressionless.

"Is it an emergency?" Gorman asked.

Dietrich paused to think, and swallowed past a lump in her throat. "Yes."

Gorman followed Dietrich to the laundry room, where she showed him the wax-covered clothes. Sighing, Gorman took one of the T-shirts. "Looks like we can just wash it out. Put it in the washer. I have an idea of who did this."

* * *

_Question: How would Dietrich and Gorman's relationship be different if Wierzbowski was still in the unit?_


	12. Chapter 12

Dietrich took her clothing out of the washer to see the wax hadn't come out. She gripped the soaking T-shirt hard, tears rolling down her face. "It's really ruined."

"Well, so much for hoping that was the washable stuff." Gorman folded his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, Dietrich."

"This was half my issued clothing. Most of this I've had since boot camp." Dietrich sobbed. "Now I gotta go out and get new stuff. I gotta pay for it."

"I just told you, this is definitely Towers's work. The three of us are going to have a nice long chat, and she's going to pay for your clothes."

"No. No, she won't." Dietrich took a breath. "I'm the one who couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut! I earned this!"

"Dietrich, you don't deserve this-"

"Yes, I do!"

Gorman was quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, then back at Dietrich. "I'm gonna say this one more time; you don't deserve this. Nobody does. I really don't give a damn what you're fighting about, but you don't resort to stuff like this. You are on the same team. Now, we're going to deal with this like mature adults, and talk-"

"I don't want to talk to anyone! No, I'm not sitting down with Towers! Transfer her to another unit, I don't care!"

"Over my dead body."

"Then _I'll_ transfer!"

"Oh? And what're we gonna tell Crowe? Go ahead, honey, I'll sign your papers, but it might take a lot longer before you ever see Crowe again. When he asks about where you went, do you think he wants to hear something as petty as this was the reason you left?"

"Then you can leave and take Towers with you!"

"No. And you can't ask Russell about it, because this is a really braindead reason to want me out." Gorman pointed to the door. "Go throw out your clothes, and grab your drill manual. You're gonna stand in the middle of the gym, study that thing for fifteen minutes, then I'm gonna see if you actually studied."

"Why?"

"Oh, now you're questioning my orders? Under no circumstances are you to disrespect an officer. You've done it twice now. I'll drop that study time to ten minutes. Say another word, I'll lower it to five, is that clear, Corporal?"

Dietrich froze. "Yes . . . sir."

"Eyes straight. Hands at the sides. Now, were my orders clear, Corporal?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"_I can't hear you, Corporal!_"

Fear had gripped Dietrich hard. "Sir, yes, sir!" Her voice wavered.

"Alright, get out. Clothes in the trash, grab the book, in the gym. Now."

* * *

A sense of betrayal had buried itself in Dietrich's heart like a knife. _I trusted him!_ After throwing her ruined laundry in a large trash can in dark, filthy room near the base's pool, she had an overwhelming urge to cry. _What's he going to do if I'm not in the gym soon? Jesus, he'll tell Command about my Asperger's . . . that's what he's going to do! I shouldn't have trusted him! My career's over!_

She was terrified that would actually happen. Tears running down her face, she jogged down the hall to her room. Panic consumed her as she searched every drawer and shelf for that drill manual. She hadn't used it in awhile. She could never remember where she put it until it was time to clear everything out for when the unit changed bases. Then she'd find it behind all her medical textbooks . . .

_Behind the books, yeah._ Dietrich grabbed three heavy textbooks, slowly placing them on the floor before finding the old drill manual at the back of the shelf. She breathed a slight sigh of relief.

She couldn't resist putting her textbooks back, though. She hated leaving things on the floor. Everything had to be back where they were. Her hands were shaking as she scrambled to put the heavy books back. They promptly fell over. "Shit . . . No . . . I don't have time!" she breathed to herself.

Grabbing the drill manual, she ran back out into the hall, and face-to-face with Towers. "Get out of my way!"

"What on Earth is the matter?" Towers asked.

"Just get out of my way!"

"Is everything OK? You're flush and crying-"

"This is all your fault anyway!" For a brief moment, Dietrich found herself blinded by anger. Overwhelmed and enraged, she threw down the manual, and swung at Towers without a second thought.

Her fist had caught the left side of Towers's face. There was no doubt she would have a sizable black eye the next day, but Dietrich quickly realized that a single punch to the face wasn't going to take Towers out easily. She was promptly sucker-punched not even a half-second later, and then pinned to the floor as she reeled. Pinned and unable to move. Towers pressed her head against the floor. "I think I can say that wasn't your brightest idea, Dietrich," she said. "Not at all."

The feeling of not being able to move created a much greater panic than she had felt earlier. Dietrich struggled for a moment, before screaming. She screamed almost like she had when she was little, locked in the closet, scared she was going to suffocate if left in there much longer. Never before in her life had she been so afraid and panicked, aside from when she saw Crowe with the spider-creature on his face. She could see it clear as day, and she continued to scream like she did then. And then she began screaming for Wierzbowski.

"_Get off her!_" Gorman growled, approaching them from behind.

Glancing over her shoulder, Towers let go of Dietrich, who squirmed away to huddle against the wall.

Gorman stormed over to them. "I've had enough of this. Dietrich, get up. I should never have put off having this fucking talk with you two." He picked up Towers, putting her over his shoulder. "In my office."

"Hey! Put me down!" Towers shouted. "Gorman!"

"Not listening, missy!"

Dietrich was slow to get up and follow. She shivered as she went, unsure of which person she was more afraid of at the moment.

Gorman put Towers down in his office, slamming shut the door once Dietrich was in. Towers reached for the candy dish on the desk, only to have her hand slapped when Gorman sat down. "I didn't say you could have any," Gorman muttered.

"She punched me first," Towers said.

"I didn't ask who punched who first. All I know is that this is stemming for your argument on LV-335, and it needs to stop. I've already talked to Dietrich about Aokawa. We can drop that already. What we don't need is you two carrying this on. Dietrich, you shouldn't have called Towers a bitch. Towers, you shouldn't have retaliated by salting her water and putting fucking crayons in the dryer. This is petty, middle school fighting, and I know you're both mature adults." Gorman took a breath, and his voice softened. "I expect better from both of you. A lot better. Is it . . . Is it hard for you to talk to each other? Is there something else going on that I don't know about?"

"No, sir," Towers replied.

Dietrich shook her head.

"I'm not saying you two need to become the best of friends, but you need to learn how to get along. You're on the same team. This kind of arguing will hurt your performance on the field if you don't bother to resolve it. You shouldn't be afraid of each other when it comes to talking about your issues, and if you are afraid, tell me." Gorman looked at Towers, then Dietrich. "I don't want this kind of fighting in my unit. You two will resolve this, and you will both be punished. I don't know who started the punching, and I don't care. You both know what you did wrong. Your punishment will be cleaning the restrooms in the gym and pool locker rooms. After that, you will clean every piece of equipment in the weight room. You will both vacuum the pool, and you will both sweep the grass trimmings from the running track outside when the lawn maintenance guys are done mowing. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes, sir," Towers and Dietrich said at the same time.

"Alright. You're dismissed. Oh, and Towers? You're buying all of Dietrich's new clothes at the PX. Not half, not a quarter. All of it. Everything you ruined in the dryer. Hop to it."

* * *

There was a lengthy awkward silence as Dietrich and Towers got to work cleaning the locker room by the gym. Dietrich didn't mind cleaning it. Disinfecting everything meant she'd have fewer patients to deal with.

As she wiped down the lockers, she heard someone coming up behind her. "Need any help? I finished the sinks," Towers said.

"Sure. Grab a wipe, and start at the other end of this row," Dietrich replied. More silence followed, and Dietrich realized Gorman hadn't said anything about her other punishment for disrespecting him. _He's probably telling Command right now about me._ She threw a used wipe in a trash can. _My career's over._

"Are you OK?"

Dietrich looked over her shoulder to see Towers looking at her from the other end of the row of lockers. "I'm fine." she lied. _I'm not telling her about what's going on._

"Don't look it. You look scared. Don't worry, I'm not gonna pin you down here. Not unless I want Gorman pissed again."

"He's already pissed at me," Dietrich muttered.

"He's mad at both of us."

"No, I mean . . . beforehand. W-When I was leaving my room, right before I punched you, he . . . we got into an argument in the laundry room, and I said some things I shouldn't have. He was going to punish me in the gym by having my study the drill manual."

"What'd you say?"

"I told him I'd never get along with you, and if he wasn't going to transfer you, he may as well leave the unit and take you with him."

"I can imagine that fired him up a little. I don't think he'd follow through with the drill, though. You'd have to do a lot more to really make him punish you. He'd wait for you in the gym, but then he'd just give you a slap on the wrist and let you go. Don't take that as he won't ever follow through on a punishment, because if you violate that chance he's giving you, oh, it'll be way worse." Towers grinned, then looked at Dietrich. "He's a big sweetie. Big ol' teddy bear. He was a bit of a hardass when I was first assigned to his unit. Then again, I didn't make it easy on him. I'd just got out of boot camp. I think they only graduated me so they could have somebody else deal with me. I may have made one of the DIs quit. Probably had something to do with the time I tied his laces together while shining his boots. Or loosening the screws on his chair. Nobody knows, but he left. Anyways . . . I came off as really undisciplined to Gorman. He was having none of it. We went back and forth, day and night, so I started pranking him at every turn. I put stuff in his coffee, I messed with his shower, and, my favorite, I painted a big green shamrock on one of his white T-shirts. Oh, he was not happy with me for all that."

"How the hell did you wind up becoming friends?"

"Every time somebody asks that, it's really a hard question to answer. Put of it was just . . . getting used to each other's presence, and us both figuring out that, hey, he's not that much of a hardass and I'm not a completely undisciplined doofus. Then there was almost losing him on a mission. This was my first real combat mission, and I didn't want it to be a total fuck-up by having my superior get shot. After that-" Towers shrugged, "we started hanging out more and more. Before you ask, no, nothing weird's happened. He's married and I will never, ever, ever hide his ring on him ever again. That was not my smartest prank. It was funny until his face started turning red and veins were appearing all over his forehead. He was so livid, I'm surprised he didn't take me to the roof of the base and throw me off. He loves his wife, and I'm just a friend who happens to put salt and lemon juice in his coffee every morning."

"Why? That just . . . doesn't scream 'friendship' to me."

"It's kind of my way of showing affection. Only with Gorman, though. If I do it to anyone else, it's not a good thing."

"Kinda like how Drake and Vasquez slap each other and flip each other off. That's how they show affection." Dietrich paused, then sighed. "I guess it makes sense."

"A lot of people don't understand it. It's OK. I'm sure you and Crowe do things that're a little odd to everyone else."

"I'll be honest, we don't. Even in private, and I don't feel like talking about it with you."

"That's fine. Wouldn't expect you to."

Dietrich was quiet for a moment, then looked over at Towers. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"You mean, like dating? Not at the moment. Did in high school, like just about everyone else. Didn't end well." Towers shrugged. "I have Gorman. One really close friend is better than nothing."

"Yeah." Dietrich went back to cleaning the lockers. _I could always ask where she grew up. But then she'll ask me the same thing, and . . . I just can't answer. I can't tell her about my home life._

"I should also apologize for . . . questioning why you're a medtech."

Dietrich glanced at Towers again. "It's not like you were wrong. In all honesty, I didn't . . . I didn't become a medtech because I have a desire to help people. I became a medtech because this is something I'm good at. It's problem-solving. It's a way of making things work the way they're supposed to."

"Hey, can't get mad at you for that. Everyone enlists for their own reasons. I enlisted to leave home and . . . prove a point. At first, it was to prove a point to my family and my classmates that . . . I'm not useless or stupid. Then it became . . . proving to myself that I'm not useless, because no one back home actually sees what I do. That, and I stopped talking to them. I send a letter every six months, but that's it. I mean, after awhile, it was . . . well, I felt . . ." Towers sat on the bench, trying to compose her words. "I didn't know when I was going feel like I proved I was worth something. It was just me in this fight, and I felt like if I couldn't see my own worth, then I wasn't doing anything right. Then Gorman came along and told me I was never worth nothing. If there's anything I've learned from him, it's that in a team like this, there's no such thing as useless. You have a part to play and a job to do." Towers gave Dietrich a look. "I'm guessing you really wanted to leave home, if you decided to join the Marines instead of go to med school."

Dietrich nodded. "That's right."

"You planning on doing med school when your contract's up?"

"Haven't thought about it much. Actually . . . one of my best friends is training to be a paramedic up in D.C. I was thinking . . . maybe I can join him instead of becoming a physician or surgeon or whatnot."

"You'd be happier?"

"Much happier. I know I could do the eight or so years of college to be a 'real' doctor, but . . . I'd rather use my talents and be closer to my friend."

"Is this Wierzbowski?"

"Yeah."

"Frost was telling me he was a big guy with a really gentle heart. Even just looking at pictures of him, yeah. Tall. Muscular. Actually pretty handsome."

_Indeed, he was very handsome._ "Yeah. Very sweet, too. No one beats Crowe, though. He'll always be adorable."

Towers nodded, grinning. "Gorman once took me to a USCM ball when his wife couldn't make it. I can't dance, but I did step on his boots on purpose a few times. Then some other Marine's girlfriend tried dancing with him. I may have 'accidentally' tripped her. And put a fish sauce in her drink."

"And you got away with it."

"He told me to do it. Actually, no, he _begged_ after she tried kissing him and putting grapes in his mouth."

Dietrich couldn't help but smile. _OK, maybe you're not so bad._ "I guess I'd need to hear the full story someday. Sounds like you've . . . you've had a lot of fun since becoming a Marine."

"It hasn't been all fun, but I think that's true for all parts of life. There's fun, there's tears. Shit happens." Towers shrugged. "The ability to make it fun is crucial."

Dietrich nodded, and looked around the empty locker room. "We should probably finish this up."

"Yeah." Towers looked at her watch. "It's almost four. Gorman's not gonna make us work the rest of the day. But he'll tell us to go right to the pool locker rooms after breakfast tomorrow."

"At least we don't have to clean up after Hudson anymore."

"Hudson doesn't seem real."

"Oh, he was real. A real pain-in-the-ass, that's for sure."

"He sounded like he was a lot of fun."

"Honestly, only you would think he was fun."

* * *

Despite making some level of progress with Towers, Dietrich was still afraid of Gorman. Even after everything she learned from Towers, she was afraid that she had crossed a line, and Gorman was making the arrangements to have her removed from the Marines altogether.

That night, Dietrich was leaving her shower when she heard someone knock on the bedroom door. "Who is it?"

"It's Gorman. We need to talk."

Her hands shaking, Dietrich dropped her bath towel into a laundry basket, and tucked her T-shirt into her sweatpants before opening the door. "Yes, sir?" she said, softly.

"Can I come in? It'd be better if we talked privately."

"Sure."

"Thank you." Gorman sat in a chair near the bed. "I'm . . . so, so sorry about what happened earlier today. I shouldn't have . . . made you get out the drill manual or got upset over what you had said, because I know you didn't mean it."

"About . . . telling you and Towers to leave?"

"Yes."

Dietrich sat cross-legged on the bed, facing Gorman. "Well, you're right. I said that in anger, and . . . didn't really mean it."

"I should've thought that through. I think . . . without really knowing it, I caused the fight between you and Towers. You were clearly . . . terrified of something when I sent you away, and I highly doubt that was helpful."

"I was afraid you were going to tell Command the truth about me, because I disrespected you."

"No. I promised to keep that a secret. I will never, ever tell Command what you told me. But, I'm very sorry for scaring you." Gorman rubbed his face. "And I'm sorry for getting angry with you. God, today was an off day. First full day back, and everybody's upset."

Dietrich opened her mouth to say something, then realized she didn't know what to say. She began to wonder why she felt betrayed earlier, why she had been so scared. So she closed her mouth, and opened her arms. "I'm sorry for punching Towers."

"No need to apologize to me for it. I'm sorry she pinned you like that. You sounded like you weren't going to get out of it."

"That's what I was afraid of. Like when I got locked in the closet." Dietrich gave Gorman a baffled look. "Why are you apologizing for it?"

"Because I taught her that move."

Dietrich thought for a moment. "Could you teach me?"

* * *

_Question: How is Dietrich's conflict with Towers similar to her conflict with Drake?_


	13. Chapter 13

Gorman agreed to teach Dietrich some of what he knew in terms of hand-to-hand fighting, which had Dietrich wondering if Gorman was more advanced than Frost. However, it would be a few days before she could learn anything, as she was still being punished for hitting Towers.

She gradually began feeling more comfortable around Towers. The more they talked, the better she felt, and she certainly wasn't anticipating the next evening. After dinner, Towers invited Dietrich into her bedroom until lights-out.

"You probably didn't get to experience sitting in a friend's room, braiding their hair and talking about everything, did you?" Towers asked.

"No, actually, I haven't," Dietrich replied.

"I did. Before I chopped off part of my hair to enlist. Conversations were fucking shallow, though," Towers replied. "We won't do any braiding, though, but I do have a lot of pictures I want to show you. Come on, it'll be fun."

"OK . . . I'll see you in a few minutes, then." Dietrich turned to head to her room to shower. _Did she just refer to herself as my friend? Do I think of her as a friend? _Dietrich paused to think. _Not sure yet. If it keeps my mind off Crowe not being here, though . . ._

After showering, Dietrich put on her nightclothes and bathrobe before heading down the hall to Towers's room. She knocked on the door, and was let in a second later.

"I'm just running a comb through my hair, then we'll talk." Towers disappeared into her bathroom, leaving Dietrich sitting on the bed.

Looking around, Dietrich noticed Towers had several framed pictures on her dresser, and stood up to give them a look. One photo was her and Gorman at some kind of ball, maybe the ball she had been talking about the day before. They were standing with their arms around each other's shoulders. A second photo was them in their utilities, in the streets of Chicago. The third looked like it had been taken in a photo booth. They were in civilian clothing; Gorman was in a dark-blue sweater, and Towers was wearing an "ugly Christmas sweater." Gorman was grinning and covering his eyes while Towers kissed his left cheek. They looked like the best of friends.

"That was Christmas of two years ago."

Dietrich turned to see Towers behind her, holding a slightly tattered scrapbook. "It's . . . It's cute."

"Yeah, it is." Towers smirked. "He let me stay at his place for the holidays."

"And his wife was OK with that?"

"Oh, yeah. She didn't mind as long as I helped clean up. And she knew I didn't have anywhere to go."

"I thought you were on . . . moderately OK terms with your family."

"I am, but, I told you I have a very large family. I knew I wasn't going to have anyone to talk to, so I talked to Gorman, and he let me stay. There were just three people for Christmas Eve dinner. And two cats. It was one of the best Christmases I ever had."

"Bet it was weird seeing Gorman in a domestic setting."

"Nah. It was really adorable. He and his wife live in a brownstone-type house near downtown Chicago. It's very pretty, and cozy. I also didn't know Gorman can cook. Instead of turkey, he did Irish stew. Never had it. I wondered what he was doing with this big bag of potatoes and onions and this huge chunk of lamb meat. Lydia was the only person who could bother him while he was working. Few hours later, bam, there's a stew on the table."

"You didn't put salt in his drink while you were there, did you?"

"No. Not for Christmas. That'd be . . . a little mean. Christmas and his birthday, I leave his stuff alone. Besides, he got me-" Towers got off the bed, and opened one of the drawers on her nightstand. She muttered to herself until she found a small, flat box. "This."

Inside the box was a silver ring, decorated in a Celtic fashion. Dietrich was afraid to touch it, it was that lovely.

"You can pick it up if you want," Towers said.

"What exactly is it? I thought Gorman was married."

"It's not a wedding ring. It's called a Claddagh ring. Supposed to symbolize love, loyalty, and friendship."

"So it's one of those rings you can wear regardless of what your relationship status is?"

"Yeah. And he had this one customized with a garnet as the heart, because that's my first name. Garnet."

"That's really sweet." Dietrich turned over the ring in her hands. "Is it real silver?"

"Not a hundred percent. The garnet is real, though."

"So he laid down a pretty penny for this thing."

"Most likely, yeah. But, he said it couldn't cost more than the engagement ring he got for Lydia. If he couldn't bring the price down, he was going to settle on something else for me. Luckily, he was able to swap pure silver for silver coating on a cheaper band."

"Still . . . it's very pretty, and probably means a lot to you."

"Yeah, it does. I can't wear it with my BDUs, though, since it's not a wedding ring. I wear it when I'm in civvie clothes." Towers set the ring box down, and picked up her scrapbook. She carefully flipped through the pages, before landing on a photograph of her in a coffee shop. "Like here. There's my ring."

"When did you start putting this together?"

"Few years ago. I work on it when I don't have anything else to do. Just put pictures in and little trinkets and go through it whenever I want. It was helpful in the six months between Gorman being assigned to your unit and me being transferred here, because of how much I missed him."

"I can imagine after five years of working together, that was hard to go through."

"At first, yeah, and he promised he'd get me transferred as soon as something opened up. Usually, I eagerly await December because of Christmas. Last year, it was to be back with my best friend. That's all I wanted."

"So, you kinda know how I feel with Crowe right now."

"Yeah. I think things would be a little different if I had said that to you yesterday."

"Maybe. Who knows?"

"Things are better now." Towers turned the page of the scrapbook. "There's us in Greenland. Before we were trapped by a blizzard."

Dietrich couldn't help but grin at the photo of Gorman and Towers in the snow, laying on their backs in snow-angels.

"I kinda figured you'd complain about his snoring when you were staying in his apartment because I got to experience that when we had to get close together in the same tent. No amount of shutting his mouth and turning his head helped. He kept right on going, and I couldn't move, because there were no more tents and neither of us wanted to freeze to death."

"Did you try turning him on his stomach? I noticed he was quieter when he moved his whole body, not just his head and neck."

"No. Thanks for the tip, though. Hopefully we don't have to sleep in close quarters ever again, but, if we do, I'll remember that."

"You're welcome." Dietrich glanced at the scrapbook again. "I take it you're pretty much inseparable."

"You could say that. I do have other pictures with other people in here. Quite a bit, actually. I mean, some of them . . . I don't remember their names, but they're there."

"Do you have other friends?"

"I did. Um . . . I keep a photo of me and her somewhere else. PFC Brenna Wade. She was . . . She died on a mission right before the Cetii Epsilon Four War."

"I'm sorry."

"It's OK. It . . . It was so sudden, and I really . . . hadn't experienced grief before. I mean, I've had relatives pass away, but I hardly knew them and struggled to understand how my parents felt and cousins and the like, because I just didn't have the emotional attachment that they had. Now, here I was, experiencing it. Wade was . . . pretty much my girl best friend. I could tell her everything that I didn't think Gorman would understand-she was already in the unit when I was assigned, and I hit it off with her while simultaneously fighting with Gorman. It . . . felt like we were going to go through our contracts together, and then . . . I got out of the mission, and she didn't. I-I didn't see it happen . . . but it hit me like a freight train when I realized what happened. At the same time, Gorman's yelling at me to move and there's bullets flying everywhere.

"Afterward, when it was over, I didn't know what to do. I cried a lot, but after a few days, I tried telling myself that I had to pull past this, that . . . this is what happens in this line of work, and . . . maybe I shouldn't be getting so attached to people. Then . . . one morning, Gorman said, 'Hey, I haven't had salt in my coffee for three days. Is everything OK?' I broke down so hard in his arms, and I told him I loved him-as a friend-and that he meant the world to me and I wanted to say all that so I don't regret not saying it. I think that's why he invited me to stay at his place for Christmas and give me the Claddagh ring, because . . . he wanted to express the same things."

Dietrich adjusted the way she was sitting, and looked Towers in the eye. "I can't imagine it was easy for you to tell me about that."

"It was and it wasn't. Sometimes, I feel like I have to tell that story in order to explain to people . . . my relationship with Gorman, because they see us and they think he's cheating on his wife. I hate hearing that, and I imagine he does, too, so . . . I tell them what happened with Wade and they kinda understand. Kinda. They still think it's weird. Eventually, I . . . gave up."

"I'm sorry about that, too. You express your affections differently, and that's OK as long as you're not hurting anyone." _And it's not like you have any romantic feelings for him. Not like I did with 'Ski. _"I guess, since . . . since you told me that, I think I should tell you something that makes me uncomfortable whenever I think about it."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, Dietrich."

"No, I think . . . I think it'll help me continue to process it and get over it if I talk about it with someone."

"Alright. Go ahead."

"OK." Dietrich took a breath. "A few years ago, I . . . really didn't have any friends, and when . . . I started hanging out with Wierzbowski after tutoring him in first-aid, I realized just how much I wanted company, and friendship. Wierzbowski came into my life and became my best friend. Even more . . . I fell in love. Despite that, he . . . already had someone he loved. Someone he was perfectly happy with and wasn't going to let go of. Love was something I was a stranger to, and I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't sure how to manage these feelings, and I didn't manage them. I let them go and I fantasized about having a relationship with him. My imagination ran wild. I wanted . . . everything. I wanted the love, and I wanted the hugs and kisses, and even the sex." Dietrich sighed. "I had so many dreams where I had sex with him. So many. It . . . There were dreams I really liked, but . . . I knew they weren't good. I knew that I was never going to get that . . . experience."

"Well, I know you can't do it with Wierzbowski, but . . ." Towers leaned in to whisper, "doesn't mean you can't do it with Crowe."

Dietrich nodded. "I just don't know if I'm ready. Anyway, I had a hard time accepting that Wierzbowski had gotten married and that his heart belonged to Eliza. His heart was never going to belong to me. Somehow . . . after all that, after I managed to find someone else, we remain friends."

"He knew about how you felt?"

"Yeah."

"And he was . . . OK with it?"

"He understood. We sat down and talked about it, and he never got mad. He wanted to help me as best he could."

"Dietrich, you are truly blessed to have someone who is that understanding of your feelings and chooses to help you rather than go the lazy route of saying, 'Then we can't talk anymore.'"

"Thanks." Dietrich looked down at the floor, then back over at Towers. "So . . . were you serious when you mentioned . . . I should have sex with Crowe?"

"I didn't say you _should_. I said you can, even though you had dreams about fucking somebody else." Towers shrugged. "Maybe having that experience with Crowe could further help . . . diminish your romantic feelings for Wierzbowski and strengthen your feelings for Crowe."

"Have you ever . . . done it?"

"No, but I've read enough trashy novels to know what you probably shouldn't do. And Wade had done it a few times before, and, yes, she told me what it was like. I may not have first-hand experience-I mean, the closest I'll get was probably that time I walked in on Gorman right after he finished a shower and he didn't exactly have a towel around his waist yet-but I will give you my advice and thoughts if you need it."

"If you're offering, I'll take it." Dietrich took a breath. "I don't think it should be the first thing to bring up next time I talk to Crowe."

"No. No, no, no. I would wait until he's physically here, and then . . . gradually introduce it to the conversation. He's probably not thinking about that right now, and probably won't care for awhile."

"Yeah. I get that."

"It gives you a lot of time to think about it." Towers squeezed Dietrich's shoulder. "I think you'll be OK. You're a smart lady. Whatever you choose to do, it's your call. I just hope you're happy with whatever decision you make."

* * *

Dietrich sat up in bed the next morning, taking a breath as she found she was back in reality. Her dream was still fading as she continued to wake up, but she could remember every detail.

It started as a peaceful dream. A sweet and tender moment between her and Crowe. A moment she wished she could experience forever.

That wouldn't happen here. Dietrich leaned in to kiss Crowe, and then pulled away to reveal she hadn't kissed Crowe, but Gorman.

"What's your problem, huh?" Gorman asked.

"W-Where's Crowe? He was right here." Dietrich felt her face heat up in shame. "I didn't mean it-"

"Well, you're right here, on top of me, clearly insisting on fucking me. Unless you're the most impressive sleepwalker I've ever met."

"Crowe was right here! I felt him!"

"Oh, you were feeling him alright. You were feeling me, too!"

Dietrich looked down to see she had her hands on Gorman's bare stomach. "Oh my God . . ." she breathed. "Where's Crowe?"

"Crowe's been gone for months."

"I thought he was only going to be gone six weeks."

"He can't come back. They removed him. Never to come back."

"I have to find him." Dietrich got off the bed.

"You're not going to finish what you started?"

"You're not Crowe! I can't do it!"

"You want it, though. Does it matter with who? You wanted it from Wierzbowski, didn't you?"

"I can't do it!" Tears streamed down her face, and she turned to the door. _Wierzbowski . . . he can help. _She put her hand on the doorknob, and opened the door to find an empty loading bay. Outside the hangar was a vast desert. "Oh, no . . . no, no, where are we?!"

"Not sure." Spunkmeyer walked up to her. "You look upset, Dietrich. Why don't we go talk in my room?"

"How did we end up here?" Dietrich shouted.

"Do I look like I have the answers?"

"Where's Crowe?"

"I don't know!"

"What's with all the yelling?" Drake appeared around a corner.

"You're not supposed to be here!" Dietrich yelled. She let out a scream before waking up.

The dream faded more rapidly as Dietrich got out of bed, pulling on her uniform as Hicks knocked on everyone's doors to wake up them up. In a few short minutes, she joined the others, following them down to the mess hall. She wanted to cry. Her dream didn't make sense, and she was missing Crowe more and more as the days went on.

After breakfast, Gorman approached her. "Ranelli's waiting in his office. Are you ready?"

Dietrich nodded.

"Is everything OK? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I had . . . a very bad dream last night. Just . . . I won't go into detail, but it didn't make sense. It was awful."

"I'm guessing it was one of those dreams that felt a little too real, like it was actually happened."

Another nod.

"I've had those before. No pleasant, but . . . I guess the best thing to say is that it's only a dream. You've been stressed the last few weeks, and that probably amounts to strange and horrible dreams."

"Yeah." Dietrich sighed. "Let's . . . not keep Ranelli waiting."

They walked down to the psychologist's office, finding him with his usual setup of tea and an assortment of pastries on a small platter. "Good morning, Lieutenant," Ranelli said, glancing up from the kettle.

"Good morning, Doc," Gorman replied.

"Now, you said over the phone that this appointment is to be completely private, no documentation."

"Correct."

"Is this for you, or Corporal Dietrich here?"

"It's for her."

"Alright." Ranelli smiled at Dietrich. "Have a seat, dear, and tell me-" he slid a cup of tea in front of her, "what's troubling you."

Dietrich opened her mouth to speak, then paused. "Well, I . . . w-when I was little, I was . . . diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, and I've been struggling to . . . to deal with all the . . . all the negative traits of it, for my whole life."

"Do you feel they cripple your daily life?"

"Sometimes, yes. I'm afraid that . . . I annoy people, or . . . that I'm too blunt with them, or that I don't show as much empathy as . . . maybe I should. I also become anxious very fast, because I overthink things."

"I haven't dealt much with either end of the autism spectrum. Mainly, I deal with mood and anxiety disorders among Marines, but, once in awhile, they've asked for my assistance for their children. I must reiterate that it's rare for me, so, please, forgive me if I'm not very helpful. Alright, based in my personal experience, the worst thing you can possibly do is give up. Give up and tell yourself and everyone around you that you're not in control, which would lead to you attempting to excuse every inappropriate action with your syndrome. Many will fall into the trap of believing that the world is against them just because they have this syndrome, which can be applied to more than just Asperger's, and they become sorely unbearable to be around. They choose not to learn, or push, or become better people. You, from what you're telling me, haven't fallen into that trap, and that is a major sign that you are doing better than you might think you are. I imagine your home life wasn't spectacular."

"Not really. I . . . wanted to leave so bad that . . . I lied to my recruiter about my medical history."

"Do you feel like being away from that environment has helped you?"

"In a way, yeah. I feel like I'm more independent. I feel more comfortable making my own decisions. I feel . . . less afraid of disappointing people. I was ready to plunge right into being a medtech, and no one could stop me. The problem was . . . inevitably, I wanted to be more social. I hated it when I was being forced to, but after being on my own, I realized I wanted friends, and I wanted to love, and be loved. I just didn't know how, and . . . that's when everything came back to bite me. I had a hard time starting conversations and I was brutally honest with people and I hated making eye contact with them. To this day, I still . . ." Dietrich's thoughts trailed, and she looked down at the floor. She took a deep breath when she felt Gorman rub her shoulder.

"Have you made any friends here?" Ranelli asked.

"A few, actually. Wierzbowski . . . was the first, and he helped me a lot. Frost taught me hand-to-hand combat. Crowe . . . became . . . my boyfriend." Dietrich looked up at Gorman. "Then there's Gorman. And . . . Towers is slowly becoming a friend."

"Do they all value you and appreciate you, despite your flaws?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do they help you with your flaws?"

"As best they can, sir."

"I'd say you have nothing to worry about, Dietrich. A small group of people is better than nobody, as long as they truly care for you. You have a desire to change, and I can imagine that is difficult to possess as someone with Asperger's, as it's incredibly common for you to be slow with most any changes."

Dietrich nodded. "I guess . . . this is a change I'm somewhat OK with. At the same time . . . letting people in is hard, because I'm afraid of pushing them away. Or vice versa."

"And miraculously, you've succeeded in not pushing away this small circle of friends you now have. Have you ever talked to them about your fears?"

"Not very often."

"Try it. That's how you strengthen your bonds."

Another nod. "OK. And . . . the other thing . . . Crowe's . . . Crowe's in recovery from surgery, and won't be back for six weeks. I . . . I want to know how to cope, because when I dwell on it for too long, I become scared he's not going to return."

"This can tie into what I suggested about communicating with the others within your circle, and the rest of your unit. Talk about your fears. Hiding them will just make it worse, and let your imagination run wild with them, which we don't want. While it's important that others listen to you and don't dismiss how you feel, it's also important that you listen to them and think about what they say, because they want to be validated just as much as you do. That's a way you can show that you do indeed have empathy."

"I . . . actually never thought about it that way before. I can . . . I can do that."

"Go and try it, and if you feel like you need more help, my door is always open."

* * *

Gorman closed the office door behind them as they entered the hallway. "So, how do you feel? Felt like that was helpful?"

"Well, he didn't dismiss me, or . . . lecture me the way people in the past have. I mean, he's right. I do need to talk more about . . . what I fear with people." Dietrich looked up at Gorman as they walked. "I've done that you."

"Yes, but remember he said you have to listen to what I say or what Wierzbowski says and so on. Basically he's saying you need to work on your communication, in particular, your listening. That would also have a lot of benefits for your romantic relationship with Crowe, if you think about it. Yes, he loves you, but you need to be able to show you love him back by being able to sit and listen to him when he wants to help you. You can't dismiss what someone says just because you think you're right. You need to think about it, question it, and then judge. Then again, your . . . way of thinking is very different from the way I think or Crowe thinks. You typically think logically rather than empathetically. There's nothing wrong with that, but different scenarios require different types of thinking. Get what I'm saying?"

Dietrich nodded. "I think so."

"It won't happen overnight. You'll get there. Like your chess skills."

"Didn't you say you'd teach me some different strategies?"

"I did say that. Why? Up for a lesson?"

"Sure."

"Let me go make sure everyone's behaving themselves, and then we'll play." Gorman headed toward the lounge, and Dietrich noticed Towers in the corner of her eye. She was holding something in a small plastic container.

"What are you doing?" Dietrich whispered.

"Shh! I'm putting a tack on his chair," Towers replied.

"Why?"

"Just because. It won't hurt . . . too much. Don't say anything." Towers disappeared into Gorman's office, then emerged five seconds later, laughing.

Gorman left the lounge. "I heard Towers out here. Where'd she go?"

"Oh, she was just . . . on her way to the pool," Dietrich replied, her face turning red.

"Alright." Gorman shrugged, leading Dietrich to his office. Dietrich saw the upturned tack on Gorman's chair, but didn't say a word. She took a chocolate from the candy dish, sitting and unwrapping it as Gorman pulled out the chess set.

"Alright, you'll get the second move this time. I want to show you how to-_AAH!_" Gorman stood back up, looking down at the chair. "_Towers!_" He ran out to the hallway, seeing her running away, giggling. "Get back here right now, young lady!"

Dietrich hunched in, trying not to laugh.

Gorman turned to her. "She told you about this, didn't she?"

"Yes!"

"I'm ashamed of you."

"I'm sorry!"

Gorman roughly tousled her hair. "Last thing she needs is a cohort. She does enough damage on her own." He paused. "It's nice to see you laughing, though. I think you'll be OK till Crowe comes back."

* * *

_Question: How might Towers have bonded with the Marines who have left (Drake, Vasquez, Hudson, Wierzbowski)?_


End file.
